A Very Powerful Woman
by suchsweetaddiction
Summary: When Harry Potter wishes for oblivion to take him forever, there is someone else who seizes the opportunity to take revenge on everyone that wronged them and tries to save the Wizarding World to certain destruction at the same time. AU as of December '95. Warnings: Character's death (1st chapter). Light Side and some light characters bashing. HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**WARNINGS IN THIS CHAPTER:** character's death.

 **A VERY POWERFUL WOMAN**

 **By suchsweetaddiction**

 _''_ _A man who wants to die feels angry and full of life and desperate and bored and exhausted, all at the same time; he wants to fight everyone, and he wants to curl up in a ball and hide in a cupboard somewhere. He wants to say sorry to everyone, and he wants everyone to know just how badly they've all let him down.''_

 _–_ _Nick Hornby, '_ A Long Way Down'

 **PROLOGUE**

Harry Potter knew without a doubt he was dying. He could feel the previous excruciating pain of every broken bone; every ache and bruise scattered throughout his entire body slowly ebb way together with his consciousness and life force. He was freezing cold, his teeth chattering non-stop, and his extremities already frozen and numb after what it could have been hours or days laid out on the snow in the back garden of his relatives' house.

Strangely enough, with that momentous knowledge, Harry didn't feel fear or sadness for what it would happen to him. No, in fact, the boy was almost eager for everything to be over with, so that he could finally submerse in the merciful oblivion for all eternity and never experience again the hopeless and pitiful and miserable life that he had survived for the last fifteen years.

Ever since Harry could remember, he had known with an abnormal certainty and resignation that he would eventually die somehow this way, beaten and bleeding to death at the hands of his 'caring' relatives. After all, his uncle and aunt had never been shy to show their hatred and disgust for their freakish nephew – be it with words, starvation, beatings, or never-ending housework – and both had taught their only son the way that 'The Freak' deserved to be treated in their normal house.

Anyone who knew Harry Potter – the famous Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort at the tender age of fifteen months – believed that the boy had grown up pampered and treated like a prince. Each and every one of them purely saw what they wanted to see, and if they happened to note something out of their rose-coloured little world, they dismissed it automatically without a further thought. After all, most of the wizards and witches had a blind faith in Albus Dumbledore and his words. _And if the great wizard, Defeater of Gellert Gridenwald, assured them that their precious little boy hero was safe and happy with his muggle family, why should anyone suspect otherwise?_ Harry thought bitterly, in his fogged mind. He had known, since his first year at Hogwarts, that the old man simply didn't care for his treatment in Privet Drive, as long as his prized little hero was alive and enough healthy to follow his manipulations while at the school.

And his friends were no better. Only once, Harry had tried to explain to them what exactly happened every summer that he spent with the Dursley's, even already knowing that it would be no good – that had been in the beginning of this school year, when he had ranted at them for abandoning him all summer without a single word from anyone – and the answers that he had gotten were not at all what he had wanted, but had come to expect somewhat from them. Ron thought he was exaggerating. Sure, he had seen the bars on the window and the twins had told him about the locks on his bedroom door, but he had seen nothing else that could be called abuse. Hermione, on the other hand, had simply believed that he was outright lying. Her unshakable belief in authority figures, especially Headmaster Dumbledore, clouded her judgement in wherever he was associated, and she insisted vehemently that the old man knew what was best for his students and that Harry should be ashamed for spouting out such outrageous lies about his betters. After that eventful day, their friendship had started deteriorating, and Dumbledore, in his _wisest_ moment yet (no doubt, after Ron and Hermione had complained to the old man about the cold and distant demeanour of his friend), had forced Harry to spend the Christmas Holidays at Privet Drive, so he could 'calm down and think on his appalling behaviour as of late'.

Harry hadn't needed to be a seer to know that these three weeks with his relatives wouldn't go well at all, and the least bit helping him calm down. Sure enough, the Dursley's had not been happy to see him again so soon, and they had to change their plans to travel because they could not merely leave their freaky nephew alone at home. Who knew what he would do without anyone in the house to abstain him of his freakish behaviour? So, his relatives were being even more spiteful and cruel than ever (if it was even possible) towards his nephew these past few days, never losing an opportunity to showing him their displeasure at the forced situation which they all found themselves in.

However, the last drop had been the previous day. Harry had noted that Dudley had been throwing him some odd looks since he had arrived at the beginning of Christmas break, and even though Harry didn't know what to exactly make of them, he was sure that it didn't bear well for him and proceeded to ignore his cousin as much as humanly possible. Harry's luck had ended on Boxing Day, when the two adults had gone out and the boys stayed in the house; Dudley, because he couldn't lose his favourite TV show and Harry, because, as usual, had chores to do and he simply didn't deserve to go somewhere out of the house.

Harry was absented-minded changing the sheets on Dudley's bed when his cousin entered the bedroom without his notice and, from behind, had wrapped his beefy arms around his thin ones and squeezed hard. Harry panicked, caught out of guard, and shoved him away awkwardly. By dumb luck (good or bad, is anyone's guess), Dudley had stepped one foot back and slipped on the dirty bed sheet on the floor and knocked his head hard on the ground after falling on his back.

Not thinking straight, his mind panicking with horror at the situation and dread of what would happen to him when his cousin regained consciousness and his uncle was told of this, Harry closed himself in his bedroom. Breathing hard and heart pumping away too fast, he slipped on the floor and hugged his legs to his chest and waited with resignation for his fate. He had no doubts that he would be heavily punished for what had happened, even though it was an accident. His uncle had never needed an excuse to beat his nephew bloody.

Sure enough, not long after, he heard his aunt and uncle enter the house and his cousin descend the stairs in a hurry. Harry closed his eyes, inching closer with his back to the far wall and forcing himself not to whimper.

''BOY!'', came the dreaded shout seconds later. Not waiting for a reply that wouldn't come anyway, his uncle proceeded to loudly and heavily start up the stairs and Harry mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

What had happened after that was fuzzy in Harry's memory, but he could guess the gist of it by the wounds and broken bones. The last memory that he had of his uncle was when he threw him outside in the back garden, unconcerned of the soil covered snow and the freezing temperature, and saying that he was forbidden to come inside the house until the next morning if he would be feeling generous then. In that moment, the boy simply knew that was it. He wouldn't survive the night with his currently health state in that freezing weather. He couldn't move an inch even if he wasn't hurting everywhere; both his arms seemed to be broken and at least one ankle was sprained, not to mention his ribs making it hard to breath. Gazing at the starring sky, he thought idly that at least he had a good image of the last thing he would see in life, as he had always loved to look at the night sky whenever he had the chance, especially from the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts.

* * *

 _''_ _Harry…''_

Someone was calling him, though he didn't recognise the smooth female voice, through the heavy fog that was his conscious.

 _''_ _Harry…''_

 _Who are you?_ He asked, not with his voice, as he couldn't speak because of his broken jaw, but with his mind. He was somewhat annoyed that he could not have some peace even in his last moments of life. However, he was curious and forced himself to pay attention and fight against the numbness that had taken over him.

 _''_ _My name is Florence Peverell. And believe it or not, I come from an alternative dimension.''_

 _What? How is that even possible?_ He demanded, suspiciously. _And how are you talking in my head? Am I already dead?_ No, he was still hurting. When one died, one didn't feel pain anymore, right?

 _''_ _Believe it or not, I had a similar life to yours for sixteen years. Simply put, I am somewhat a female version of you. Before I changed my name, I was known as Florence Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived.''_ The voice bluntly and bitterly spat out the last sentence. It was exactly the same way that Harry felt about his hero status; and it was this last bit that told him to wait before denying anything and be open-minded about what he was hearing. After learning that one could go back in time with a Time Turner, it was possible that it existed other forms of time travel. So believing that there were different alternatives universes was not that really much of a stretch of the imagination.

 _''_ _I battled against Voldemort several times and in the end succeeded in defeating him, though that didn't result in anything good for me.''_ The voice went on explaining, turning bitterer and bitterer the more she spoke. _''I thought that after I saved the wizarding world, I could finally be myself with no more expectations but I was wrong. Merlin… How wrong I was…''_

Here, the voice paused, seemingly lost in thoughts of the past, before suddenly snapping back.

 _''_ _Everyone turned against me, even my 'supposed' friends, and in a blink of an eye, from their beloved hero and saviour, I was the next Dark Lady and imprisoned in Azkaban without a trial or a right to defend myself against whatever charges they accused me of.''_

Harry thought rather detachedly of his godfather, Sirius Black. He had been imprisoned in Azkaban in the same unfair manner. Even though that at the moment, he was not very happy with the man because of his siding with Dumbledore, when the Headmaster had decided that the best idea was returning him to the Dursley's for the holidays, the boy felt sorry for what had become of his last magical family member.

 _''_ _Yes, exactly the same way,''_ the voice said resentfully; it seemed that she could read his thoughts easily enough, _''and that manipulating old man was the one to blame. It wasn't enough that he had me raised like a self-sacrificed weapon to fight his war for him; when the job was done, he did everything he could to make me the enemy and throw me in Azkaban, fearing that I would take his place in being the greatest magical from him and proceeded to steal everything I had ever had: all my possessions on my trunk and the gold and properties left by my parents for when I came of age. He took everything from me, declaring it was for the greater good. After all, I wouldn't need any of that in Azkaban.''_

 _Wait! What gold and properties? I thought that I had only that one vault at Gringotts._ Harry asked, shocked with everything he was being told. Sure, he had not been impressed with Dumbledore mostly of the time; however he would never imagine that he could be that immoral and cruel.

 _''_ _Dumbledore has hidden many things. The Potters' Vaults are only one of them. And that is why I am contacting you. I have been searching for some time for a universe similar to my own. You see, many things happened here that shouldn't have; one of them being that magic was discovered by the muggles worldwide and consequently war broke between both that resulted in the almost extinction of magic and humans alike. The muggles feared magic and their way of thinking was that if they couldn't have it for themselves, then they would actively destroy every magical being, be it human or animal. In their mass destruction, the muggles used everything they could against us, making the first two muggle world wars seem like a children's play in comparison. If they could kill at least one wizard or witch, they would hardly care if they had to destroy an entire village of muggles with them if they were in the way. It quickly turned out into a surviving and running game for magicals, as the muggles somehow found a way to detect magic with their technology and nowhere was safe enough for long. In the end, there was only an half a dozen magicals at the most, though it was already too late at that point as the planet was starting to self-destroy after years of the muggle poisoning it with toxins, radioactivity and anything they could create to attack us with.''_

The more Florence talked, the more horrified Harry became. Despite knowing that he wasn't long for this world (though he was feeling pleasantly numb ever since the voice started speaking in his mind), and lately being spiteful at the world at large – muggle and wizarding worlds alike –, he couldn't even entertain the abysmal thought that if the muggles really discovered magic was actually real, they would save no means to destroy them all.

 _And what are you exactly searching for?_ He forced himself to the moment and asked; the images in his head too awful to contemplate anymore. _I don't know if you can see, but I'm already dying. I am no use for you in whatever way you are thinking of._

 _''_ _I know that you are dying, yes, though you shouldn't have been. Once again, the old man meddled where he shouldn't and that is the result.''_ Florence spat disdainfully. Harry could see that she really, really loathed Dumbledore with her whole being. _''It's because that you are dying that I have a proposition for you.''_

 _What proposition? I'd rather die in peace and forget everything and everyone in this world, thank you very much._ He said, sounding spiteful. He had already been hurt enough on his life. He felt that he deserved at least a peaceful death.

 _''_ _To put it bluntly, I seek retribution from everyone that had betrayed me in my world. The problem is that they are all dead here already, killed by the muggles, though they hadn't paid even a fraction for what they have done.''_ She explained, tone cold and hard, without remorse or shame. _''I am one of the last surviving on my planet and the only fate that awaits me is misery. I have nothing to lose anymore. So I decided to travel to another dimension where I could exact justice on my own. It needed to be somewhere where my other self was similar to me in as many aspects as possible, and thus I had found you: living with the Dursley's, manipulated and lied by Dumbledore, treated as a hero a moment and a criminal and liar the next by everyone and wanted dead by Voldemort. In fact, the only major differences that I could spot until this moment in both our lives was that one was born female and the other male, and I hadn't been sent to Privet Drive for the winter holidays. The only drawback is that there cannot be two of us at the same time and I can only take my place in the new universe when the original one is no more. Through my research, I found out that the easiest way to pass through is being invited by the original self in the moments before Death takes him.''_

Harry was tempted to do it right away just out of spite to everyone that had turned against him. If Florence took revenge on them all, he could die a happy man, despite everything. He really didn't care what she planned on doing; for all he knew she could side with Voldemort and torture and kill any wizard and witch who stood against the Dark Side. After all, since the previous summer, the major part of the wizarding world called him an 'attention seeking liar' and he had been submitted to daily torture sessions by that toad-like Umbridge, which the others professors had turned a blind eye to.

 _And what happens to me if I accept your offer?_ He needed to know. The idea of payback was very appealing, though he really didn't care that much to continue staying alive; he was sick and tired of his pitiful life and was ready to leave everything behind.

 _''_ _Whether you accept or not, to you, it will be the same. At this moment, I stopped somewhat your body from giving up, it is in a stasis spell, you could say, so I could make contact with you, but as soon as I let go, nature will follow its course and your body will shut down and you will finally have your so awaited oblivion.''_ The voice responded matter-of-factly, as if it was a professor lecturing its student. _''If you allow me my wish, I'll travel automatically to your side and from there I'll put my plans in action. I'll be very grateful to you, and I'll do everything possible to avenge us both of the cruelty of the people that hurt us without a care.''_

Harry pondered some more. Really, he had nothing to lose. He'd still get what he wanted and Florence could do whatever she pleased. If there was an after-life (he didn't really believe that there was one; when you died, that was it, no more suffering, regardless of your deeds in life, what it existed was pure oblivion), he would eagerly watch what would become of the world that had abandoned him carelessly.

 _Alright, how do we do this?_ He finally agreed feeling no regrets.

 _''_ _Just call my name in your head and wish for myself to come to you.''_ Harry could feel her eagerness and gratefulness in her voice.

 _This is it_ , he thought oddly calm in the face of what was happening. _This is what I_ _wanted. Florence, give them all hell for me._ And with this parting sentence, he called for the woman with all his might before slipping into the long-awaited oblivion.

* * *

If one was watching the back garden of the number four of Privet Drive around three in the morning, one would bear witness to the last breath of Harry Potter, laid out forsaken in the cold and white snow, almost glistening under the clear starry sky.

And if so, one would have been also able to witness a thin figure wrapped in black robes appearing out of nowhere at his side a moment later, moving its arm in odd patterns while holding a wooden stick and silently gazing at the boy for a few moments, before vanishing in the night without another glance at the boy hero of the wizarding world.

And if one would be standing next to them, they could have heard a female voice whisper, her tone like a promise:

''Rest in peace and don't worry, Harry. I promise, everyone will pay for all the hurt that they caused both of us.''


	2. CHAPTER 1 - REACTIONS

AN: Thank you to everyone that reviewed, followed and added this story to their favourites. I'm really happy.

It'll take some time to update the next chapters as I'm still deciding exactly in what direction I'll take this story. Though I couldn't wait anymore and decided publish another chapter to anyone who is curious.

And I apologize beforehand if you find some glaring misspelling and grammatical error. I'm not English and the language was mostly self-taught along the years.

Have a good read and if you wish, tell me what you think about it. Thanks!

* * *

 _''_ _If nothing else, there's comfort in recognizing that no matter how much we fail and sin, death will limit our suffering.''_

 _–_ _Chuck Palahniuck_

 **CHAPTER ONE – REACTIONS**

The morning of the 28th of December brought tragic news for the wizarding world that had shocked everyone, Light and Dark sides alike.

TRAGIC DEATH TO THE WIZARDING WORLD, by Sarah Silvers

 _THE BOY-WHO-LIVED FOUND DEAD BY MUGGLES_

 _It's with a heavy heart that we, at the Prophet Diary, inform our dear readers that Harry Potter was found dead yesterday morning by a couple of passing muggles on their morning walk with their dog, in the back garden of his relatives' house._

 _''_ _We were taking our morning walk like we do every morning around the neighbourhood, since we moved here about a year ago, when our Luc (the dog) started whining and snuck through the large fence into the Dursley's (Potter's relatives) garden. I quickly followed, because it could be anything and I wouldn't trust that awful boy Dudley alone with my Luc. There have been rumours around that that boy had attacked some other animals in the neighbourhood, though no one ever could prove anything.'' Mrs. Anne-Sophie Spencer, the one that had found Harry Potter, told us when questioned about what she had seen. ''What I found on the other side was simply horrific. There, lying in the snow was a boy that had been heavily beaten and had most definitely frozen to death'', she continued evenly, despite starting to become distressed with the subject. ''You see, I was a nurse for almost forty years and I know an abused child when I see one. After checking that there was not really anything that I could do, I told Robert, my husband, to run to our house and call the police and the ambulance. When they arrived, I gave my testimony and when asked if I suspected of someone, I told them that I was sure it had been his uncle or his cousin. Along the years, some people have seen Dudley and his gang chasing and beating the poor boy in several occasions though no one had said anything against them for fear of reprisals. There is another rumour from a few years back about a teacher that had called the Child Services on the Dursley's because young Harry appeared mistreated, showing signs of mal-nutrition and neglect, and a few days later the teacher had been fired and the Child Services never came again. Despite not saying anything, everyone knew that Vernon had done something to remove their suspicions and so avoided talking about it if they were ever in earshot.''_

 _When I expressed my utter shock at this revealing news, the madam assured me that wasn't all._

 _''_ _The Dursley's had always told everyone that would listen that their nephew was a good-for-nothing that was always in some kind of trouble. He had been enrolled in St. Brutus for Criminal Boys, since age 11, because they feared that the boy would become like his jobless and drunk parents that had died in a car crash.''_

 _My dear readers, I was speechless at that outrageous defamation. Imagine, Lily and James Potter, heroes of our world, recipients of the Order of the Merlin, first class, post mortem, slandered about by muggles like they were common criminals._

 _The several witnesses, who had gathered after Mr. Spencer sounded the alarm, told us readily how everything had ensued when the police and ambulance arrived at the scene._

 _The Dursley's had been caught out of guard when the police officers knocked on their front door, seemingly just out of bed. When enquired about his nephew, Vernon Dursley at first ranted furiously about what 'the freak had done this time' and after being informed that Harry had been found dead, he had paled suddenly and sputtered incomprehensibly before saying that the boy had left the evening before and Vernon didn't know where he went. The aunt's and cousin's responses were given in the same fashion. All of them were asked to go along with them to the police station to give their testimonies._

 _The Department of Law and Magical Enforcement had been swiftly informed of this terrible occurrence, taking immediate action. Only an hour later Madam Amelia Bones grimly confirmed that Vernon Dursley had been found guilty and the date of the trial would be announced in the nearest future._

 _The funeral of Harry Potter is scheduled to tomorrow at 2 pm on Godric's Hollows and the body will be buried next to his parents._

* * *

At Hogwarts that morning, the silence that fell upon the Great Hall was intense as the Teaching Staff at the breakfast table had been shocked speechless by the terrible news brought by the newspaper.

The first to react was the ever stoic Professor Minerva McGonagall (who was everything but that at the moment). She lifted herself from her place, face frozen in shocked disbelief – an expression mirrored by everyone in the room.

''Oh Merlin, it can't be true'', she protested faintly. She seemed to try to convince herself, though without success. Harry was one of her favourite Lions and the beloved son of the two students she had considered almost like her children.

At her right side, the Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape, had turned an unhealthy white pallor and hadn't left the article out of his sight as if trying to detect an illusion spell on the newspaper and determine that it was only a bad-taste joke, after all. He simply could not believe that what he was seeing was accurate; Albus had told everyone that the Potter brat was beyond spoiled at home, and he had blindly believed in the old man like everyone else. If that article proved to be true (which seemed likelier by the second), he had failed utterly in his vow to protect Lily's son from harm.

The other Staff reacted within the same fashion, each and every one horrified and wanting to deny the true facts as some sick joke, despite knowing that it would be very unlikely. Everyone knew that the Prophet Diary most of the time blew the situations out of proportions to garner more readers, but they just knew that in this case was not likely at all.

* * *

That same morning at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, there could be heard anguished howls from a grieving werewolf and despairing cries from a grim animagus after they learned of the death of their godson.

''It's my fault, Moony!'', Sirius Black wept, devastated. ''I agreed with Dumbledore in sending him to that hell hole. He said that Harry needed some time alone and I stupidly consented. What he must have thought of me, Merlin…''

Remus Lupin didn't say anything; he was in too much shock. His cub was dead and he shared some of the guilt as well. Like everyone else, he had blindly followed the word of the great headmaster. He had abandoned him for the second time now – being the first when Lily and James had been murdered and he went away and left Harry to his muggle relatives without protesting once Dumbledore's decision – and his thoughtless decision had generated an irreversible and unbearable situation.

* * *

At the unplottable and secret Dark Lord's manor, Voldemort was drinking his morning tea and plotting, when Wormtail scurried to his side franticly shaking the morning newspaper.

''My Lord, my Lord!'', the servant called, as if his master hadn't already noticed his appearance and was becoming more annoyed by the second by his follower's rudeness. ''They say in the newspaper that Harry Potter is dead!''

''What?'', the Dark Lord demanded in shock, ceasing in his intention of taking out his wand and punish the other man for his lack of respect to his master. ''Give me that paper'', Voldemort ordered, after recovering his usual demeanour, and extended his hand.

Wormtail obeyed quickly and fled the room, not wishing to stay and witness his master's reaction to the news.

* * *

After reading the article, Voldemort was torn. On one hand, he was happy: his enemy, and prophesied defeater was dead and that could only mean good things for his side of war; on the other, he was annoyed and not the least bit impressed that a filthy muggle had succeeded in doing something that he hadn't been able to – which was one of reasons that he had ordered his Death Eaters to let the Boy-Who-Lived alone, as the boy was for him alone to take down.

In the end, he decided to chalk it up to luck on the muggle's side in succeeding in killing the boy-wonder and be happy that one of the large thorns on his side was gone for good. He smirked gleefully at the thought of what expected the old man for allowing his Golden Boy to die, at the hands of muggles no less. Like everyone else, he knew that Dumbledore had preached for years that Potter was safe and happy with his muggles relatives. Voldemort wanted to see what excuses he'd come up with to save his own skin and avoid a revolt against the very same muggles that he liked to defend all the time.

The Dark Lord chuckled with dark humour; this war was looking up his way already. He needed to call Lucius and his other Death Eaters belonging to the Wizengamot. They had an old wizard to politically lynch in the coming trial.

The evening before of the _Daily Prophet_ 's shocking news, the great Albus Dumbledore was not, in fact, feeling that great. He had been in his office, happily sucking on his beloved lemon drops and plotting his manipulations towards Harry Potter for the next coming months, when Amelia Bones had called him through the Floo. He had sensed instantly that whatever was going on did not bear good news to him at all.

It was not often that the Head of the Department of Law and Magical Enforcement herself called Albus directly through the Floo without the old wizard having any inkling that something had happened; and Amelia seemed to glare accusatorily at him, blaming him somehow for whatever had occurred.

''Hello, Amelia'', Albus greeted her kindly and cheerfully nonetheless; independently of any situation, his grandfather mask was always in place. ''How may I help you?''

''Albus, I received this news not long ago and it is my responsibility to inform the Headmaster of Hogwarts if any student is dead'', she said grimly and bluntly, her face seemed like carved in stone and her glare unchanging.

Dumbledore promptly lost his happy attitude at that and felt something start to knot inside his stomach. If it was some random student that had died, he would not worry too much, despite what he would make the magical world believe, however, something told him that he, indeed, would be more honest in his unhappiness this time around.

''Who is it?'', he simply asked, somewhat already knowing the answer.

He had known that it was risky to force the Boy-Who-Lived to stay with the Muggles for the Winter Break, but he could not let the boy's behaviour of the last few months to continue unchecked; Harry had been distant and cold towards anyone, an attitude that was very unbecoming of the saviour of the magical world. With this in mind, the old man had decided that a few weeks in the Muggle World would remember Harry of his rightful place, and once back, he surely would be grateful for having the magical world and his friends close to him again.

''Harry Potter was found dead this morning. Everything points towards his muggle uncle,'' Amelia stated evenly and the headmaster paled drastically, ''though, for the moment, the three Dursley's are being kept to be further questioned at the Ministry.''

In that instant, Albus Dumbledore felt all his ageing years and then some. Everything that he had worked so long for was ruined. All the manipulations, the tests that Harry had been put through, the people he had to pay to follow all his orders without fail; everything was now for nothing. He had needed the boy alive long enough to meet his objective: defeat and destroy Voldemort, as the Prophecy had stated; and if he had died doing it, even better as the old man had no need for the boy after that. Nevertheless, with Harry now dead, the path for the Dark Lord to win this war was as good as free. He simply would not allow that so he needed to think of a solution and fast.

 _Perhaps, I could use Neville Longbottom,_ the thought lit up in his mind like an epiphany. _Yes, the boy has no friends and his grandmother is not really the caring type. With a little work, the boy could be of use._ The old man decided silently, his sense of hope returning. His mind was already plotting ways to bring the young wizard into a 'strong friendship' with Granger and Weasley. Augusta Longbottom would be easily convinced that his grandson was after all the prophesied child, as the old woman's greatest wish was that Neville should be like his Auror father. And the wizarding world would follow blindly when Albus announced Neville as the true future defeater of the Dark Lord as soon as the Ministry finally acknowledged that Voldemort really was back.

 _And as I am Harry's Magical Guardian, I can claim all his Vaults at Gringotts as there is no more living Potter's to collect them,_ he mused gleefully. No one would dare refute the most powerful wizard's words of their world, after all. All the things he could accomplish with all that gold, Merlin! He felt almost light-headed at that thought. Despite knowing of the Family Vaults' existence, up until now, Albus had only been able to legally take out money of the Trust Vault the boy had been using since his eleventh birthday, to pay all his 'friends' and relatives. The other amounts of gold that were retrieved from the main Potter accounts were sporadic at best, as the goblin in charge of them couldn't do much more without raising unwanted suspicions to the inactive vaults.

Unbeknownst to the headmaster lost in his machinations, Amelia Bones was watching the old man sharply. Even though his expression did not change much, the witch had not reached her official post without abundant intelligence and perspicacity accompanied by her admittedly great aptitudes as an Auror for many years (it was a very well-kept secret that the Sorting Hat wavered for a moment between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, before deciding for the house of the badger), and thus she noticed that even though Albus had been genuinely shocked by the tragic news, he was already plotting something to solve this situation more to his advantage. Being already aware of the true happenings at Privet Drive for the past fourteen years by a helpful witch that she had met that same day, Amelia had to fight her instinct to remain in silence about those revelations. After all, she had no concrete evidences at the moment and it wouldn't do to warn Dumbledore that somehow she knew more than she was letting on.

''It is a great loss, Harry was a boy full of potential'', the headmaster declared at last, his voice grief-stricken, resurfacing from his plans, almost forgetting that he was not alone in his office. ''I assume that his funeral will be soon?''

Amelia kept all her findings and opinions behind her own mask and simply nodded and answered, ''Yes, the day after tomorrow, at 2pm at Godric's Hollows.''

Albus nodded in agreement, his mask still of an old man mourning. ''The perfect place, I'm sure that Harry will be happy to be reunited with his parents at last. And of course, I'll be there, as well as the teaching staff''.

''Very well, Albus'', Amelia said. And with that she disconnected the Floo call, leaving the old man to his manipulations.


	3. CHAPTER 2 - GRINGOTTS

_''_ _A strong woman is a woman determined to do something others are determined not be done.''_

 _–_ _Marge Piercy_

 **CHAPTER TWO**

Since Florence had disapparated out of Privet Drive before dawn, she had not been idle. Her first stop was at Gringotts for obvious motives; she was thankful that the goblins didn't have what the majority of humans – muggles and magicals alike –considered office hours. After all, it was the only magical bank in all Great-Britain, and as much as the average witch and wizard would like to admit, the goblins had others assorted clients who weren't able, for various reasons, to take care of their financial business during the day.

After apparating in a small dark alley behind Gringotts, the first thing that she did was checking her Occlumency shields. She could not allow herself to be emotional; she had to be calm and collected at all times if she wished to accomplish everything in mind without major suspicions upon her. Confirming that, indeed, they still stood as strong and unbreakable as ever, she turned her mind to more physical necessities.

Florence conjured some light and a mirror to check her appearance. As someone intending to claim several Ladyships of old Pureblood families, she was aware that it would not do to present herself publically as less than the perfect heiress that she wished to portrait to the world. Thus, she transfigured her simple, black winter robes to a dark green velvet dress and cloak ensemble richly trimmed by golden thread. Next she checked her make-up (while studying at Hogwarts, she had never cared much about how she looked, though that had changed after she had reached adulthood). She reapplied her black eye-liner and red lipstick, forgoing any blush, as she was already quite pink in the cheeks due to the freezing cold. Lastly, she moved her hands to her just above shoulder, straight black hair and wandless and wordlessly moved it back in place, her fringe falling neatly to the right side of her face and showing a clear and unblemished forehead.

Satisfied with her image, with head held high and assured pace, Florence moved up the stairs of the imposing white building and directed herself to one the free goblins, seated behind a desk studying some precious gems, in the bank's reception hall.

''Well met, Master Goblin'', Florence spoke to the creature politely with one of their simple but traditional greetings, receiving a slight surprised look in return. When she had his full attention, she stated her intentions in a lower tone. ''I'd like to meet with Lord Ragnok about a very critical situation with some of your Vaults.''

The goblin eyed her suspiciously at that. It was perfectly understandable; it was not every day that someone asked for an audience with their ruler, and an unknown witch at that.

''And who is requesting such a meeting?'', the teller demanded after a few seconds of scrutiny, never losing his guarded expression.

''Florence Peverell.''

The goblin simply raised his eyebrow at her last name, the only show that he indeed recognised it.

''And care to tell me what is the motive for such a warranted meeting with our Lord, Miss Peverell?''

Florence looked around to see if there was someone close by. After ensuring that they both were the only living beings in hearing range, she answered in a low but confident voice:

''It is my understanding that there is a high possibility that there is someone stealing from several Pureblood Families' vaults. And I have reason as well to suspect that there is inside cooperation with said thief as well.''

The creature had turned several different colours listening to that bombshell, and for the first time ever Florence could witness a goblin lose completely his cool and not immediately after regain his mask. The young woman fully realised that what she had just said could be considered the capital offence for the goblins whether it was a true or false accusation; after all, the bank's greatest pride was being the safest place in the world to guard wizards' money. So if it was true, it meant there was at least one traitor in their midst and they had been successfully stolen from without anyone the wiser for an undetermined amount of time; and if it was a lie, they needed to take severe actions against the person who had the audacity to slander their establishment's reputation with such unforgivable fabrications.

After the creature took several calming breaths to control his temper, he barked in his native tongue for a couple of guards standing at attention in one corner of the hall. As they quickly approached them, Florence stood her ground and easily kept her inexpressive face in place, not showing any of her feelings or thoughts. She knew perfectly well that she was in the right, but that did not mean that those creatures were not intimidating and not to be underestimated by anyone. She had come to have a very healthy sense of self-preservation, at least.

''Please, follow us, Miss Peverell'', the goblin teller gruffly said, having recovered some control, taking the lead to the great doors at the end of hall, on the opposite side of the large entrance.

Florence obeyed silently and promptly, not wanting to give him any minimal motivation for turning his explosive temper on her person before the facts were laid out and confirmed.

After walking through several hallways that seemed more a maze to her, they finally stopped a few metres away before a couple of great wooden doors, with magnificent war scenes which appeared to be painted in pure gold.

''Please, wait here a moment'', the attendant ordered, before reaching the great doors. He knocked loudly and entered shortly after.

Florence felt the suspicious and silent gazes of the two guards on her, though she tried her best to ignore them while she waited. It was of the upmost importance that this meeting progressed the way she wished it to go, as everything that she had planned for after relied heavily on her inheritance and the goblins' help in some bureaucracy. She would need some falsified documents such as a Birth Certificate and O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. results, as she did not existed in this timeline; and if the creatures were not inclined in helping her, she would have a very difficult time in doing what needed to be done. Although, she felt positive that at least at the bank there would no problems. After all, she was helping them catch a traitor and a thief in their middle, and even if she wouldn't be able to claim Harry Potter's vaults, they knew that there could be a mutiny from the wizards and witches if they were informed that their Saviour, after all the torments he had been through, had been robbed as well of his own money all his life and the goblins never had known or taken any action against that crime.

Not much long after, the teller stepped out of the closed room, and silently signalled her to enter. His face was once again unreadable, and Florence couldn't sense whether that was a good or bad thing.

The room she stepped into was a very large office; richly decorate with precious and ancient weapons and tapestries depicting war scenes littered around the halls. Directly in front of her, there was a large and opulent desk with matching armchairs on the side nearest the door and on the opposite sat an aged goblin that she knew was Ragnok (who she had met once before in her world), who's figure screamed power and wealth and his steady gaze studied her silently.

''May your enemies fall at your feet, Lord Ragnok'', Florence greeted politely with a low bow, before standing straight and impassive again.

''And may your gold always flourish, Miss Peverell'', the goblin ruler responded in kind. ''Please, have a sit as it seems we have much to discuss.''

She did as requested, at the same that she noticed behind her, the guards standing in front of the door once again closed and the teller standing beside his lord.

''Slowfire tells me that you have critical information about a grievous offence committed inside these halls'', the older goblin started, his tone neutral, never taking his eyes of the only human in the room. ''Can you explain us how is that you came by this knowledge?''

''First, before I expound on any facts, I'd like for a Secrecy Oath from anyone present in this room.'' When she saw that Ragnok did not like her answer and was readying himself to say something, she quickly continued, her demeanour as sincere as she was able, ''Please, the details of what I have to tell you are delicate and cannot fall in other people's hands, as there could be grave consequences.''

Florence stopped and waited for some kind of reaction from the two goblins for a moment; when none was forthcoming, she asked, already knowing that it was a guaranteed way of getting a response. ''What do you know of the Deadly Hollows and the Master of Death?''

Silently, she moved her right hand in a circular motion and the Fabled Resurrection Stone appeared in her palm. She didn't have any fear that the Stone could leave her grasp, as since she had officially accepted her mantle as Mistress of Death, the Hollows became a part of her as much as her heart or limbs. If any of the Hollows were taken from her, by any means, they would promptly come back without any need of action from their rightful owner.

Sure enough, their reactions were instantaneous. Slowfire's eyes were wide as they could get, his mask no longer in sight; Ragnok's response was more contained but no less genuine, before a calculating expression descended upon his face.

''We meet at last, _Domina Mortem._ I have been waiting for this meeting for a very long time,'' the goblin ruler courteously stated after a few moments, shocking Florence.

For a tiny second, the witch's mask fell away and her emotions were bare for the goblins to see. However, she recovered quickly and she felt composed once more.

''Were you, perchance, aware that I would be coming to Gringotts?''

''I only knew that the Master of Death would eventually step inside these walls. Your arrival was foresaw by one of our Seers a long time ago'', Ragnok explained, still with his calculating look. ''Her prediction was sufficiently vague that no one was ever able to deduct exactly who this person could be or even when this event would be come to pass. We only were able to understand with certainty that with this individual would come as well great change to everyone, wizards and magical creatures alike.''

Florence found herself nodding along at his words. There were no doubts that the goblin spoke the true, as he outlined in a very general fashion what her plans were to the Wizarding World.

''Nevertheless, I still expect a Secrecy Oath from each of you,'' she said inflexible, ''as the remaining details are as much or even more dangerous in other people's hands. You must understand that what I accomplished up until now and all the changes that I have every intention of bring about in the foreseeable future will be against many powerful wizards' wishes, as my goals will ruin their long-kept comfortable places of influence.''

Florence stayed silent after that statement and waited outwardly coolly for the goblins to comply with her request. This was one point where she would not budge at all. She could not take the slight risk of someone finding out about her plans and even less of where she came from. She could not begin to imagine what could happen to her if her latest travel was ever discovered; she already had suffered from some nightmares about it and they were not the least bit pleasant.

At last, the ruler of the goblin nation conceded in Florence's requirement with a nod and an out of character sigh.

''You must swear that you'll not disclose to anyone, by absolutely any means, any of the information that I'll partake with you in this room not concerning general information about my person, like my Ladyships and such that usually are common knowledge in any case'', she instructed thoughtfully. Both ruler and teller raised an eyebrow at the aforementioned Ladyships, though they made no comment of it and the witch paid no attention to them. ''And as Slowfire is already here, I'd like him to manage my future accounts. No sense in allowing more people access and knowledge to these events.''

Ragnok turned his gaze to the subject at his side and silently asked his opinion on this offer.

''I'd take the position with great pleasure, Miss Peverell,'' the goblin was quick to accept; even though he still didn't know how many Vaults Florence would claim, he was quite interested in witnessing the promised changes from a closer position.

After that, the Secrecy Oaths ensued: firstly, the two guards, who had been watching everything with keen eyes; secondly, Slowfire, who seemed eager to know what this confidentiality was all about; and lastly Lord Ragnok, who portrayed himself very calm in the face of such a binding contract to silence.

''Thank you,'' Florence said, feeling a large weight taken off of her shoulders. Even though she was mostly completed certain that the goblins would help in her endeavours, at least now she had the guarantee that whatever happened, she was safe from being discovered. ''To start with, I'd like to make the Inheritance Test, please.''

The teller quickly complied to her request and, with a click of fingers and a word spoken in his native tongue, all items necessary to create a parchment with the desired thorough information were on the desk in front of them. Florence swiftly made proper use of them and not long after, Ragnok was reading through the parchment and could not avoid the outright shock that played on his typical stoic features.

''It seems that you are even more extraordinary than I first suspected, Miss Peverell,'' he commented, his voice clearly showing his amazement, at the same time that his subject read through the new information, and several ring boxes popped on the desk.

Slowfire looked gobsmacked at them all; it seemed that he previously hadn't had great expectations for his newest client. Now, it appeared that he was swallowing his thoughts.

Florence smirked at their reactions, but didn't comment. She merely reached to one ring after another and put them methodically in the appropriated fingers, while the creatures recovered their cool.

''Gringotts will have the most pleasure in making business with you, Lady Potter-Peverell-Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw-Gryffindor and Heiress of Slytherin, '' Ragnok stated in the same breath, sounding respectful and very much pleased.

Florence made a slight grimace at her new official title; it truly was a mouthful. It was very well and good to rub it in those pompous and bigoted purebloods, however in a civil conversation it was simply ridiculous.

''Please, only Lady Peverell will do.''

''It seems that you are not the least bit surprised about these findings,'' observed Ragnok, alert to details as always.

''Yes, and that explanation is part of the reason of why I've asked for the Secrecy Oaths. You see, I am not from this time, in fact I am not from this dimension either,'' the witch revealed her greater secret at last, watching the goblins with piercing eyes.

''What?'', the teller squawked stunned, something that he would deny to his last breath, his eyes larger than ever and mouth agape.

Ragnok, however, reacted more controllably. Ignoring his subordinate's outlandish reaction completely, he merely raised an eyebrow and casted Florence his calculating look once again.

''Oh?'', it was his only prompt to expound.

Then Florence proceeded in giving them an overview of had happened in her world – a little more detailed than when she had talked with Harry, though still far from all of it – and the creatures had been appropriately revolted and horrified at the past events that, if the newly named Lady Peverell had any say in it, would never occur in this time.

To give them some time to process through all that new and disturbing information, Florence asked for the Potters Wills and the files of all her accounts for inspection. The registered retrieved money was exactly the same as her own: the same dates, the same amounts of gold (fortunately, without the heir/heiress present no one could retrieve any artefacts from the family vaults, even not the goblins without express and signed in blood permission from the rightful owner) and the same receivers.

''Here are the evidences of thievery from one of your own and from Albus Dumbledore,'' she spat out the last name as if she had swallowed the most disgusting potion ever. She gave the blaming proof to Ragnok, for him to confirm her claims. ''As I told you, Harry didn't know about any of the other vaults, and as the first transferral was on November of 1981, Harry was still a toddler and thus in no position to authorize whatsoever.''

The ruler read throughout the several sheets of parchment, his face turning harder as he perused further. At his side, Slowfire could feel his sovereign's temper raise and definitely wasn't looking forward to what would happen. It was more than certain that a least one head would roll before this day was half over.

When Ragnok reached the end of his inspection, he ordered one of the guards stationed in the room something that the witch didn't understand as she didn't speak Gobbledegook, though she suspected that it had to do somehow with the guilty goblin, which most likely wouldn't see another day alive. Not that Florence had any concerns about the fate of their traitor; the war against the muggles had assured that most of her previous compassion for anyone who wasn't dear to her had died a quick and painful death. Seeing that she still didn't know personally anyone in this time (except for the goblins, tough they were never dear to wizardkind, as they were always business oriented), it was a good thing, because she was aware that she would step in many people's toes and would not have the luxury to much care for anyone in the nearest future.

''It seems that the goblin nation owes you a thank you, Lady Peverell, and an apology to the Potter line for all that has been occurring these last years. Granted no one was aware that Griphook was acting on his own greedy intentions instead of the bank and the rightful owner, though that it's not an acceptable excuse,'' the older creature gravely stated, his words sounding understandably hard to articulate. Florence was sure that an offense of this gravity was not an everyday occurrence, thankfully. ''However, I am surprise that you didn't react outwardly to this transgression in any way.''

Florence chuckled humourlessly, recalling the moment some years prior when she unleashed her whole rightful fury on the unsuspecting goblins.

''Oh, I assure you when I first learned of this, your office was left in shambles after I regained my temper.'' Ragnok's and Slowfire's eyes widened in shock; she was aware that this office was one of the most protected in all Gringotts, actually it could be said that its wards were of the same strength as the older Pureblood Vaults. ''I simply have had the time to process this and the knowledge that now I can demand swift retribution for all the wrong done helps greatly.''

The ruler only nodded in understanding, realizing without need to be spoken out loud that the newly very powerful witch had no intention on staying quiet and not taking her revenge somehow; and that was something that he could surely appreciate.

''I believe that you'll need new documents to freely live in our world without any type of suspicion upon your person whatsoever,'' Ragnok proceeded, his tone all business, the traitor in their midst seemingly forgotten for the moment. Florence mutely nodded. ''Gringotts can, of course, procure all necessary documentation for you. Usually there is a significant fee involved, though given the state of affairs at the moment, they will be free of any charge, as an apology for the offense committed against the Potter family.''

For the next hour, the witch and the goblins decided on her new documentation: the names of her fictional parents, date and place of birth, grades desired in both O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's and mastery in Magical Defence (Florence refused to have a mastery with that prejudiced name that the British wizards like to label; as if the only thing that they needed to defend from was the Dark Arts), and everything else that they thought necessary.


	4. Chapter 3 - THE NEXT STEP

_AN: Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited. You all made my week._

 _I have a question for you: what would you change about Hogwarts to make it a better school? Different teachers and classes? Different rules? Tell me anything you would like to see in this story; I'm open to everyone's suggestions. If I use your ideas, I'll make sure to properly credit you._

 _I'll remind you that English is not my native language, so if you find some glaring misspelling or grammatical error, don't be shy in pointing it out and I'll correct them when I can. If someone wishes to be this story's beta, please send me a PM, as I am currently struggling to write the next chapters._

 _For those finding this story badly written and 'incredibly bad cliché' (guest's review), you don't have to read it. I'm writing this kindly out of my own free time and for my own pleasure (and others'). This is fanfiction and that means that everyone can write their stories how they well damn want, and if someone doesn't like it, they simply should leave. There are many other stories on this site that surely will grab your interest._

 _Sorry about that. Having said that, to everyone who enjoys this story, have a good read!_

 _''_ _I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.''_

 _–_ _Maya Angelou_

 _Previously:_

 _For the next hour, the witch and the goblins decided on her new documentation: the names of her fictional parents, date and place of birth, grades desired in both O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's and mastery in Magical Defence (Florence refused to have a mastery with that prejudiced name that the British wizards like to label; as if the only thing that they needed to defend from was the Dark Arts), and everything else that they thought necessary._

 **CHAPTER 3**

Florence already had her new family tree created in her mind for some time. She would claim to be the great-granddaughter of Charlus Potter and Dorea Black – Harry Potter's grandparents – and thus granddaughter of their first (secret) son who had unfortunately been born a Squib. With just a few months, Daniel Potter had been adopted by a French Squib couple by the last name of Argent. About twenty years later, Daniel married Hortense Duval, a French muggle-born witch – around the same time that James Potter was born. From their union came Sebastian Argent, a wizard of above-average power, who decided to take his mastery in Wards in the United States after his last living close blood family – his mother – had died of Dragon Pox, only three years after her husband who hadn't survived a rather strong pneumonia. Eventually, Sebastian married Angelique Beaumont, a French witch born and raised in American soil; who both had ultimately Florence.

She decided to register herself as an American witch because of the strenuous political relation between the United States and Great-Britain. The British's arrogance, prejudice and backwards ways were not viewed with good eyes by the other country (and many others). In turn, Great Britain considered the American wizarding world too different from their own, with their progressive customs and non-discrimination among their citizens; be it because of blood or creature status. Due to this fact, if someone wished to search for Florence Peverell, or former Argent, more in depth in the American Ministry of Magic, they would have a very hard time as the Americans naturally distrusted the British because of their well-known corruption, and would by any means defend the information of one of their own from the clutches of someone unfriendly.

''I'd like the services of a first-rate lawyer, as soon as possible,'' Florence requested after that all was filled and filed in their proper places at Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic. ''I intend to press charges against several people and this person can't have any connection to any of them.''

''May I ask who do you intend to sue, Lady Peverell, in addition to the obvious individuals, of course?''

Florence smirked darkly at that. In that expression, the creatures could clearly see that this witch was very dangerous and vindictive and now, with all her newly Ladyships, money and political power, more even so.

''Indeed. The _Daily Prophet_ , especially Rita Skeeter for all the drivel that she has been writing about Harry for more than a year now; the Ministry of Magic, for the unlawful trial of some months ago in front of the full Wizengamot for a mere under-age use of magic transgression; and particularly Dolores Umbridge for sending Dementors to Privet Drive with the order of attacking Harry and at Hogwarts for torturing the boy daily with a Blood Quill,'' she responded grimly.

''A Blood Quill?'', Slowfire asked alarmed.

Florence silently raised her right hand and momentarily removed the glamour from the horrid scars saying _'I must not tell lies'_. Both goblins gasped sickened.

Their reaction was completely understandably. Florence had found out, a few years after those dreadful detentions, that she could have had died with such heavy and continued employ of this dark artefact. Blood Quills were very strongly regulated by the Ministry and were only meant to be used when exceptionally necessary, in occasions like claiming one's Lord/Ladyships and very important written contracts. If only used once, the person would merely feel a quick and sharp pain as if sliced by a knife, when the Quill draws the required blood and the magic, which is drawn as well, is not even felt. However, continued use will leave a deep scar, impossible to completely heal by any means (as it is _dark_ _)_ , and the steady depleting of one's magical core. Florence had felt sick and livid when she had realized that a few more sessions and she could be turned irreversibly into a Squib or worse, she could have died if her body couldn't endure the strain of being deprived of magic. She had wondered sometimes if that had been Umbridge's true goal.

''That witch is an exceedingly despicable woman,'' Ragnok observed with disgust and a sneer.

''Quite,'' Florence agreed whole-heartedly. ''She hates everyone who isn't a Pureblood and completely human. However, her bigoted campaign will end soon,'' she added with a wicked smirk, which was shared by the goblins. Lately, that horrid woman had been trying to submit laws to further restrain a certain number of magical creatures, such as werewolves and goblins. _Though, she will stay in Azkaban for a very long time, if I can help it._ She mused, maliciously.

After scanning a few sheets of parchment that had appeared meanwhile on his desk, Ragnok spoke up, pulling Lady Peverell from her wicked thoughts.

''As you wish someone with no ties to the people whom you want to prosecute, I'd suggest Gonzalo Castillo. He's a Spanish barrister with several years of experience and great results achieved,'' the ruler advised, giving her the parchment for her perusal.

Florence hummed to herself as she read through the information. The wizard seemed to be who she really needed: a foreigner with no connections whatsoever to Britain. Without even looking at his demanded remuneration – she was the richest person in Britain, after all – she decided to accept Ragnok's recommendation.

''When is it possible to meet him?''

''As soon as possible, Lady Peverell,'' the teller assured her without hesitation. ''We need only to contact him by Floo. I am certain that he'll not refuse an offer from such a notorious Lady as yourself, when he is aware of all involving details.''

Florence mutely nodded in agreement and Slowfire rushed out of the office to do just that.

''Do you care for some more tea, Lady Peverell?'', Ragnok offered politely. The refreshments brought in early were already cold.

''Yes, thank you.''

The goblin clicked his fingers and a new tray with tea and pastries appeared on the desk. The previous one disappeared a second after that.

Florence sighed almost silently and reached for a teacup. She already felt tired and the sun hadn't even risen in the sky yet. After sipping lightly on the warm and invigorating liquid for a moment, she cast _Tempus. 5:12._ She had much to do still and no time to rest. Gratefully, she took this little break to relax some of the tension gathered on her shoulders and back, while waiting for Slowfire's return.

They didn't have to wait long. There was a knock on the door and, as soon as Ragnok gave the permission to enter, Slowfire stepped into the room with a middle-aged wizard behind him. The man, who Florence assumed was Gonzalo Castillo, was tall and thin and had dark brown hair and grey eyes behind square-rimmed glasses; he wore a black three-piece suit and blue tie and carried a business briefcase on his left hand.

Florence politely raised herself from her comfortable armchair and confidently greeted the man. Discreetly, she scrutinized him, wanting to figure out this wizard's character.

''Pleased to meet you, Lady Peverell,'' Castillo greeted her, courteously, taking her hand in his and kissing lightly the back of it. ''Slowfire tells me that you have a job offer for me?''

Florence was pleasantly surprised. The man was appropriately respectful though not overly so. She'd not tolerate working with people who ingratiated and grovelled themselves to her. She proceeded to generally explain what she wished that be done legally and the people involved. In the end, the wizard gladly accepted the offer and was given all the information and documentation needed to start drawing the legal papers. Florence relaxed further at that; one less worry in her mind.

After agreeing to meet with her new barrister the next day at Peverell Manor (with the appropriate password to travel through the Floo Network), Florence thanked the goblins for their swift and helpful services and left the bank with her mind already on the next step in her list for that morning.

When she was once again on the dark alley where she had apparated earlier, she summoned the power of the Invisibility Cloak with barely a thought and disapparated silently; only to return to Privet Drive and walk the length of the street in search of any early riser muggle.

 _Perfect!_ , she thought, when she saw an old couple accompanied by a dog strolling towards her and number 4. Wandlessly and wordlessly, she cast a light compulsion on the canine when the muggles approached; without a fight, the dog obeyed to her orders and barged in the Dursley's back garden. Its owner quickly followed and barely an instant later, the woman could be heard calling urgently for her husband.

After that, everything progressed the way Florence expected and wanted to. The police and an ambulance were called and the area was sealed; the neighbours gathered, always curious to know what was happening and hoping to gain some juicy gossip which they could discuss about later; the Dursley's were promptly woken by the police officers and Vernon made the police's job easier of finding a suspect and the neighbours' morning even more exciting by ranting and raving about his worthless nephew. The three Dursley's were swiftly put inside a police car and driven to the station; other police officers stayed on the street gathering the rapport from the couple who found Harry Potter and the neighbours' testimonies; and inside the back garden, the experts were investigating the crime scene, after the body was taken away.

Florence didn't even need to use magic to make the inhabitants of Privet Drive talk; it was clear that they were enjoying the situation immensely as they had a great opportunity to talk badly about the Dursley's, even though someone had just died – however almost no one had liked the scrawny Potter boy, so in their minds there was no great loss to them.

 _These people are really disgusting,_ she thought with repugnance, still hidden by the Cloak.

When she assumed that enough time had passed, she disapparated with the location of the Ministry of Magic in mind, more particularly directly to the Auror offices of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was not a path really used in times of peace, nevertheless it was there and she had urgency on her side.

Still invisible, she looked quickly around: the offices were still mostly empty at this hour of the morning. By heart, she strode without delay towards Amelia Bones' office; while inside her mind, she prepared herself for her first performing act. She had a very intelligent and sharp witch to slightly deceive.

Upon reaching the hall leading to the wanted office, she dissolved her invisibility and cast a light glamour on her face – making her hair and eyes turn brown as it wouldn't do to be truly seen by someone other than Amelia – and continued her way towards her goal.

''Hello, how can I help you?'', the assistance seated at the desk besides the Department Head asked in an almost bored tone when Florence approached.

''I need to meet with Madam Bones rather urgently, please,'' Florence responded, making her features and voice show a distressed woman.

''Do you have an appointment for this morning, madam?'', the blasted woman asked, as if entirely indifferent by the strange behaviour and Florence's right eye twitched in annoyance.

''Miss, I said that I needed to _meet with Madam Bones rather urgently,_ '' she almost hissed at the other woman in frustration, leaning forward and her eyes glinting dangerously (which were not at all fabricated) seating nonchalantly at the witch in front of her. ''What part of _urgent_ does your diminutive brain not understand?''

The woman gaped at her looking quite offended as if she had never been talked to that way before. By appearances, she seemed to be a Pureblood who had gotten her job by familial connections – and no proper academic qualifications whatsoever – and was used to be fawned over by men, if her figure-hugging clothing and heavy make-up was any indication. In her world, Florence had known many like her; they only took up a job at the Ministry until catching a loaded husband and later never working another day in their lives again. She found that truly revolting. She loathed many things, and being a lazy and spoilt brat was way up on that list, as it always made her remember her pampered pig of a cousin.

When the woman – she still didn't know her name nor did care to – continued there looking as if searching hard for a smart comeback, Florence lost her patience and decided to take the matter in her own hands. With a few steps, she was in front of the door and knocked.


	5. Chapter 4

_AN: Thanks to anyone who reviewed, followed and favorited my story. I'm really overwhelmed right now with your great response to this little story, as I wasn't really expecting so many people liking it._

 _I repeat the question that I made the last chapter: What would you change at Hogwarts to make it a better school, if you could? In later chapters, this matter will be of great magnitude and I would like very much if you could share your opinions._

 _Ah, something that I forgot all the preview chapters:_

 _DESCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters, I'm just playing with them. If I did, the series would be very different, mainly the ending; and also I would be filthy rich and my real life wouldn't this boring. Hehe : )_

 _"_ _Well-behaved women seldom make history.''_

 _―_ _Laurel Thatcher Ulrich_ _,_ _Well-Behaved Women Seldom Make History_

 _Previously:_

 _When the woman – she still didn't know her name nor did care to – continued there looking as if searching hard for a smart comeback, Florence lost her patience and decided to take the matter in her own hands. With a few steps, she was in front of the door and knocked._

 **CHAPTER 4**

''Enter.''

She opened the door and, wordlessly and wandlessly dispelling the glamour and mentally preparing herself to act as a worried and frantic woman, stepped into the office, the useless assistance already forgotten.

''Madam Bones?'', she asked confirmation upon seeing said witch seated behind her desk. Obviously, Florence knew her very well, though for all appearances now it was the first time they both met.

The woman raised an eyebrow and stared at the incoming stranger with surprise, as it was apparent that she had expected her incompetent assistance.

''Yes. Can I help you?''

Florence stepped further into the room, after closing the door behind her.

''Madam, my name is Florence Peverell and I am cousins with Harry Potter,'' Florence started to spin her tale, tone upset and grieving. She forwent the usual pleasantries, as she was supposedly in distress at the moment and with no mind to trade meaningful words. ''You see, I found out six months ago that he was my cousin from my father's side and I contacted him with wishes of meeting my last living blood family. We got to know each other fairly quickly through letters, as he was forbidden of leaving his relatives' houses for the summer and no one of his friends ever did contact him during the holidays. I quickly realised that he was not happy in that house. Though he never outright said anything, I could understand from some little things he would write, that his family didn't really care about him and I even suspected that they neglected and abused him. I tried to confirm my suspicions; however Harry always ignored my enquiries or simply brushed them off as if it was nothing of importance.''

Amelia had been surprised when Florence stated that she was a relative of the Boy-Who-Lived, and even more when suspicions of abuse were mentioned, though she didn't comment and let her explain herself. When Florence stopped for a moment to gather her breath, acting all along as the proper worried witch about her cousin's well-being, the madam decided to ask questions.

''That is a very serious accusation, Miss Peverell. Are you certain of what you are saying?''

''Yes, madam,'' Florence affirmed before removing an envelope from her cloak's pocket and offering it to the older woman. ''Harry sent me this rather alarming letter yesterday morning. If you'll read it, you'll undoubtedly understand why I had come up with such thoughts.''

Amelia mutely took the offered letter and proceeded to read it, after gesturing for the guest to sit in the chair in front of her desk.

Florence could see that the other witch was still doubtful about her claims. Not even Amelia Bones, who didn't care that much politically for Albus Dumbledore, had believed in the words of the old man about the safety of the Boy-Who-Lived like everyone else had. Nonetheless, that quickly changed as she read the letter that Florence had fabricated beforehand only needing to add a little of Harry's magical signature to make it appear genuine (she had 'borrowed' some of Harry's magic when she had appeared at his side that early morning). She had made sure to make the letter sound as despairing and resigned as she could manage and at the same time claim some hard truths that Dumbledore had ensured that wouldn't be known until now. That obviously had worked, as Amelia paled a little further with each line she read.

 _Dear Florence,_

 _I have a feeling that this will be the last letter that I'll ever write to you._

 _You were right all along. My relatives absolutely hate me and make sure to remind me of their opinion about me every time we are in the same room. I'm sorry that I lied to you before. I didn't want for you to see me as some pathetic kid who cannot even stand up to a muggle, when everyone in the Wizarding World calls me the Boy-Who-Lived, the precious saviour that miraculously defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. Though now they say I am an attention-seeking liar when I tried to warn the Ministry that Voldemort was back._

 _But that doesn't matter anymore as I fear that I won't survive these holidays. My uncle is still furious about the entire 'Dementors incident' back in the summer and me being forced here for the holidays now, spoiling their plans to travel, and he doesn't lose an opportunity to remind me of that. Until now, it wasn't really that bad: a punch here, a slap there, the continuous demeaning insults and the usual interminable list of chores to do around the house. Though, I have the premonition that something will happen soon and my luck will finally completely run out._

 _You know, ever since I can remember, I always knew that I would die eventually at the hands of my relatives. Now that I really think about it, if I hadn't had magic, I would have died a long time ago. It was simply not possible to endure some of the beatings from my uncle and cousin. There was just too much blood loss and internal injuries to survive without help. Not to even mention the countless concussions that I suffered through all these years; it's truly a miracle that I had never sustained any brain damage._

 _I know that my end is near and strangely enough, I'm fine with it. After all, what else is there for me? Selfish friends who don't believe me and accuse me of lying when I tell them that my home life is far from great? Hypocrite classmates who love me one moment and the other shun me and fear that I am the next Dark Lord? A Headmaster who callously forces me back to this hell hole even knowing what treatment awaits me here? A godfather who blindly believes in the Chief Warlock, despite said man had never once taken action to call for a trial for him as was his right as an heir of a Pureblood family? Professors who only care about themselves and their precious jobs and ignore a student when he tries to tell them that he's being tortured daily with a Blood Quill by a cruel Toad Woman?_

 _You see, beyond you, there is nothing else that holds me to the living world and isn't that just pitiful? And I think it's better this way. Really. Contrary to others' beliefs, I am not stupid. I am aware what will be my only fate if I keep on living. When Voldemort finally reveals himself, everyone will turn to me to save their pathetic hides as it should be my responsibility, quickly forgetting that just previously they had utterly despised me. Without any training, it will be my duty to fight a dangerous madman, who already has more than fifty years of experience and knowledge over me. It's not that hard to figure out what will be the outcome, don't you think?_

 _I had enough. All my life I suffered in this prison which others call house. I fought Voldemort several times and the only thanks and reward that I receive is to be sent here once more again. I really don't care anymore. If anyone wishes to be saved, then they should do it themselves. After all, why should I save anyone, when no one saved me?_

 _Maybe you'll think I am heartless by saying this and turn your back on me like everyone else. Or hopefully you'll understand that I am simply tired of being hurt and let down by people. If that is the case, I entrust you several of my memories in this unbreakable vial. Do with them what you wish. If you truly are a fighter as I came to know you, maybe you'll use them to change the world into a better place._

 _Thanks for your friendship and kindness these last six months._

 _Forever yours,_

 _Harry Potter_

When Amelia finally finished reading the letter, she was silent for a few minutes, no doubt processing all this new and disturbing information. Her expression, though, was one of a woman both regretful and outraged. Florence waited quietly and patiently for the witch to come of her thoughts.

''That was certainly very enlightening, Miss Peverell,'' the woman broke the silence at last, her voice slightly shaken. ''I assume that you are here to press charges against the muggles and to claim guardianship of young Harry?''

''It's unfortunately too late for that, madam,'' Florence said in a grief-stricken tone, her eyes watering slightly.

''Too late? Do you mean…?'', Amelia broke off, her eyes widening in shock and realization of the true gravity of the situation downing on her without need to be stated out loud.

''Yes. As soon as I read this letter, I apparated directly to Privet Drive. However I arrived too late. The street was already full of muggles. The police, an ambulance…'', she broke off, as she restrained a sob for leaving her mouth. Even as some part of her was acting at that instant, another part, one which she usually contained tightly behind her strong Occlumency shields, was truly grieving for Harry Potter and for herself as well – as it could have been credibly Florence in his place, dying alone and forgotten in that wretched house. ''A muggle woman found him this morning, beaten and frozen to death in his relatives' house' back garden.''

Amelia gasped loudly at these words, her hands flying to her mouth in shock and her usual stern and unaffected posture nowhere to be seen.

''Are... are you sure of this?'', she asked shakenly, as if wanting to deny the reality of her words.

Florence merely nodded as she breathed deeply and tightened her shields, which had loosened slightly at this fierce breakout of emotions. It seemed that she wasn't acting all that much after all.

''I need to gather my best Aurors and go immediately to the scene,'' Amelia said strongly and got up from her chair, at last recovering her typical countenance and putting her personal feelings to the back of her mind. Right now, there was work to do and she couldn't let her emotions cloud her impartial judgement.

Florence pulled herself together as well and copied the other witch's action. She also had other things needed to be done that morning. The rest of that conversation could be left for another time.

''I think that you'll like to watch Harry's memories later, Madam Bones. I already did and, let's just say, that most of them shocked me considerably and not for the positive.''

Amelia stared at her for a few seconds, possibly recalling all the condemning statements contained in that disturbing letter – which seemed eerily almost like a suicide note – that could have enough significance to be directly reported to the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

''If you think so, I'll trust your judgement in that matter for now,'' she finally said in concurrence, before walking towards the door and opening it. ''I can meet with you tomorrow morning at ten, if you are amenable. You may explain the details concerning this situation more in depth then.''

''Yes, of course. Thank you very much for your ready actions regarding this tragic event, Madam Bones, I really appreciate your cooperation'', Florence promptly agreed, before offering her hand for the older witch to shake, which she did.

After spelling the glamour once again, she walked confidently through the hall, returning the fierce glare that the unnamed incompetent assistant threw at her – her own glare several degrees more intense – though the staring down was cut off quickly as Madam Bones sharply called the woman to her office.

The next task was a quick one. She only needed to send an anonymous letter to Sarah Silvers – a reporter from the _Daily Prophet_ that for now was still not much known as she was only out of Hogwarts for about three years, though she had made her career later on in Florence's world with her articles written about the war – with the happenings of that morning at Privet Drive and the woman would certainly write the more shocking and tragic article of the year.

After sending it with an owl from the Post Office at Diagon Alley, she thought about Peverell Manor and apparated there, relieved that her immediate tasks for the day were successfully accomplished.

* * *

The manor was exactly as she remembered from her world. It was not as ostentatious or as enormous as Malfoy Manor or other old Pureblood families', nevertheless she loved it. The little time she had lived there before, she felt completely safe and at home unlike at Hogwarts as there was always the threat of danger and other people's expectations. In here, she could absolutely relax and be herself without any worries about anyone else. In addition, there was a portrait of someone that though she had never met physically, Florence quite liked and frequently talked to. In fact, he was the one to suggest and encourage her to follow this unprecedented adventure through dimensions and time.

As soon as she stepped through the ancient wards of the manor –which she noted were as strong and impenetrable as ever, as only someone with the family's blood could enter freely – there was a pop announcing the appearance of a House-elf.

''Welcome home, Mistress Florence,'' the creature excitedly greeted in its' race typical squeaky voice, its eyes alight with the joy of finally having a new mistress to serve. ''I am Missy and I am the Head House-elf.''

Florence let a genuine smile slip through her features. She remembered this elf fondly, as well as the other two. Pinky and Sissy were Missy's younger siblings and they all were very loyal and enthusiastic about their duties and with time the young witch had held great affection towards them, as they were the only alive beings she could minimally trust after everything that happened to her when the second wizarding war was over.

''Hello, Missy,'' she responded in kind, walking leisurely towards the entrance doors of the manor. She took a deep breath and smiled unreservedly again. _It's so good being at home again._ She thought happily as she watched Missy open the great doors.


	6. CHAPTER 5

_AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited. I'm still without a beta (anyone wishing to fill that position?), so do forgive me if you find something odd written. I found that when you write in a language that it is not your native one, there are some words and expressions that simply can't be translated the exact way I wish to._

 _This chapter has already been written for some time. I don't know if it's just me or if it's normal for other writers, but most of the time I have several documents open at the same time for each chapter, and I write what takes my fancy at the moment._

 _In this chapter, you will see some of Florence's past in her world; I hope you will like it, and if not, feel free to share your opinion and tell me what you would like to see in this story._

 _DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter and its fictional characters. If I did, I would make Harry a little smarter and Slytherin and give hell to anyone who wished to use him selfishly to their own benefits._

 _''_ _The strength of a woman is not measured by the impact that all her hardships in life have had on her; but the strength of a woman is measured by the extent of her refusal to allow those hardships to dictate her and who she becomes.''_

 _–_ _C. JoyBell C._

 _Previously:_

 _''_ _Hello, Missy,'' she responded in kind, walking leisurely towards the entrance doors of the manor. She took a deep breath and smiled unreservedly again. It's so good being at home again. She thought happily as she watched Missy open the great doors._

 **CHAPTER 5**

Florence remembered the day which she had stepped into that manor for the first time as if it had happened only the day prior. Admittedly, she had been very shocked to find out that there was still a large state to the Peverell family. She had known that she descended distantly from Ignotus Peverell – the first owner of the Invisibility Cloak – as had been every Potter by blood before her, and simply thought that the principal family had died out.

* * *

 _(Flashback)_

 _Usually, Florence preferred to owl-order everything that she needed, as she was someone who valued her privacy, but when it came to potions ingredients and other such delicate items, she liked to see the quality of the products with her own eyes before purchasing any. In that she only trusted herself. Florence was sure that she could receive the best quality merchandises at home without lifting a finger if she merely informed them that she was Florence Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived and the Saviour of the Wizarding World. However, that was a situation that she absolutely did not want. She was tired of being the one everyone gossiped about, with or without true facts in the story. Frankly, she stopped caring or being surprised by the imagination of the press or the people at large – they always came up with the strangest and more farfetched things, but the sad fact was that these speculations were continuously believed by everyone._

 _Right after the Battle of Hogwarts, Florence couldn't even be seen in public; she was instantly surrounded and assaulted mercilessly by everyone in sight, wanting to grab her hand or whatever body part they could reach. The first time that that happened, her instinct reaction was to flee the scene in panic, though it was impossible. On the other hand, the other two thirds of the famous Golden Trio, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, fully basked in the attention without a care; it was like they had born for that life of fame. She recalled idly musing as she had watched her best friends that they wouldn't seem out of place if they had walked the red carpet in Hollywood, side by side with famous actors and the like._

 _That day, she had spelled a strong glamour over her hair and facial features and decided that was time to visit Gringotts and see to her financial matters. She was aware that Sirius Black, her godfather, had declared her his heir to the Black Family, though she didn't know what it meant exactly. Hell, she didn't even know if her parents had left something else for her that she could claim now that she was already of age._

 _The goblins were not very happy to see her at Gringotts – they could easily see through her glamour – after the whole debacle with the theft of the Hufflepuff's Cup and the fleeing dragon. They didn't really cared that she had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort; their only interest was the bank's reputation and earning themselves and their clients more gold. Evidently, Florence offered to pay the damage caused, as the incident was indeed the Golden Trio's fault (though she doubted that either of her friends had the money or the intent to do the same)._

 _''_ _I can always take my gold elsewhere. I'm sure with the contents of the Potter and Black Vaults, I will have no problem in finding another bank happy enough to have me as a client,'' she had finally pointed out, tired of the goblin's attitude, when he still did not seemed very pleased in making business with her. Then, smirking inside, she wondered out loud, tapping her index finger to her lips, the thought just crossing her mind at that moment. ''I wonder how the people will react when they find out that their Saviour is not welcome at Gringotts?''_

 _The goblin's face had suddenly changed colour, somewhat turned lighter – she thought it was their version of pale, but as their skin's colour was different from humans it was hard to be certain – and seemed to freeze for a few seconds. At that moment, she was perfectly aware of his train of thoughts even without Legillimency. Both of them knew very well that if word got out that the precious Saviour had been expelled from Gringotts, the bank would lose many clients trust – and with them the goblins' beloved gold – in the foreseeable future, which would be disastrous to the business._

 _After that illuminating moment, the goblin was almost too eager to be of service. Mentally, she patted herself on the shoulder for a job well done; she felt positively Slytherin in that instant and, oddly enough, she really liked it._

 _To Florence's great surprise, she discovered that she was heiress to more than the Potter and Black families and Vaults. It seemed that the ancient and almost forgotten vaults of the Peverell family were hers too. She had simply assumed that the Peverell's main branch had been extinct centuries ago and that their possessions had been claimed by their closest relatives in that time – and thus assembled in the main Potter Vault._

 _The goblin had changed colours again and his eyes had widened as the enchanted parchment had informed both of them of this shocking news. It seemed almost as if… he was afraid?_

What now? _Florence almost growled out loud with annoyance._

 _This goblin (what was its name again?) was the oddest one that she had ever met; she wasn't even aware that these creatures could show fear or some emotion related to that and towards a witch no less! As far as she knew, they only sneered or were indifferent to witches and wizards alike, they were only interested in gold and their own profit and, last but not least, they were bloodthirsty and vengeful creatures as showed by their past and long history of wars._

 _''_ _It seems, Miss Potter, that you meet all the necessary conditions to inherit the Peverell Vault and Manor,'' he said soberly after he recovered his composure and cleared his throat._

 _''_ _And these conditions, what are they exactly?'', she asked curious, already somehow expecting what he was going to say._

 _''_ _To be able to be the heir – or in your case, heiress – of the Peverell Vaults, one needs not only to be of their blood offspring but also have in their possession certain three ancient magical artefacts. I presume that you know of what I am talking about?'' The goblin regarded the human expectantly, his previous faux-pas already forgotten._

 _Florence simply nodded, speechless. As she had suspected, the Deadly Hallows were involved somehow._

 _''_ _Evidently, this condition only existed after the last Lord Peverell, Augustus Peverell, died of old age, being childless and his wife had already died long before him. His great-grandfather, Ignotus Peverell, had previously left with us the needed magical documents to activate these clauses as soon as the last of his direct heirs was gone.'' The goblin informed the witch, while several files appeared on the desk between them. He opened one of them and skimmed the sheets of parchment inside quickly. ''There are two Vaults. One with the money, which has an abundant amount of gold after all the interests earned for four hundred years; and the other with magical artefacts such as books, journals, weapons, and other miscellaneous,'' he continued, giving the parchments explaining everything to Florence. ''And there is also Peverell Manor, location unknown. We are not aware of the condition of the propriety, as it was not been inhabited since Lord Augustus died in the late 1680. To get there, you will need to take a portkey – at least the first time – which is a ring guarded inside the second vault; to activate it you will need one drop of blood on its stone and say 'Mortem'. It will take you directly inside the wards.''_

 _After that, Florence passed the next hour signing documents with a Blood Quill – she had to restrain herself to not burn it down as she first touched it – and getting herself acquainted with everything that she owned now. The goblin gave her a folder for each family she had inherited from to read the information more in depth later at home. Never in her wildest dreams, had she imagined that someday would she be so bloody rich; there was literally more gold than she could spend on a lifetime in the Peverell Vault alone. To only think that she had lived for almost seventeen years with Dursley's constantly saying that she was an expensive burden and before Hogwarts never having a single penny to her name, it was simply overwhelming._

 _After retrieving the portkey ring from the vault, the witch immediately decided to move to Peverell Manor that same day. With magic the process was fairly simple and easy: a few spells and she was ready to leave Grimmauld Place. Truthfully, she was ecstatic to leave that dreadful house behind once and for all. the only reason at all that she had been living in there – despite all the painful memories attached to it – was because she had nowhere else to go. Sure, the Weasley's had invited her to the Burrow, however she wanted to be alone for some time and they were still mourning for Fred and she didn't wish to interfere in their family time._

 _Ron and Hermione had gone to Australia searching for the Granger couple, even though Hermione wasn't sure if they wanted to come back to Britain with their memories erased and all (for all they knew, the couple was happy there and had intention to change their lives once again). So, Florence didn't need to immediately warn anyone that she was moving out of the past Headquarters of the Order of Phoenix._

 _When she had first arrived at the Peverell State, she was pleasantly surprised to see a well-cared and not too ostentatious manor, with impeccable trimmed gardens and green-houses in the back, every one of them apparently cared for by the family of house-elves living there for centuries._

 _As expected, the creatures cried in happiness when they found out that there was finally a new mistress they could serve whole-heartedly. After being showed around the manor and the grounds outside, she was ushered inside a study in the ground floor and simply informed that there was someone who wished finally to meet the new Master of Death._

 _Florence had frozen a few heartbeats at that title. She had tried not to think too much about that whole Master business, not sure if she wanted to really know if that name was just that, a name; or if what she secretly feared was the possibility, that it meant something beyond that._

 _''_ _Hello, child!'', someone greeted warmly, rescuing her from her musings._

 _She looked around startled. Her eyes fell on a whole-body portrait to her left; a wizard with black robes, seated regally in an armchair, stared back at her. His hair was black and long, falling in gentle waves on his shoulders. Coincidentally, his eyes were almost a mirror of her own and they watched the young woman curiously, while a smile played on his lips._

 _''_ _My name is Ignotus Peverell. I am very happy to finally make your acquaintance. I admit that I have been waiting anxiously for a long time to meet my successor.''_

 _''_ _I am Amelia Potter, pleased to meet you, Lord Peverell,'' she responded in kind, stepping closer. '' Successor, sir?''_

 _''_ _Why, the Master of Death, of course,'' he declared, like he was talking about the weather, his smile never wavering._

 _''_ _That title, sir, it isn't just a fancy name, right?'' she needed to know. Florence had the feeling that her life had irrevocably changed forever that terrible day at Hogwarts, and she wasn't talking about the whole Voldemort business. She simply didn't know it yet._

 _Ignotus sighed softly and shifted in his armchair._

 _''_ _Please, take a seat. I believe that we will be talking for a long time.''_

 _And so, Florence was told about what truly meant being the Master of Death._

 _The first point that Ignotus made was that Florence could tell no one of her new status. Humans feared what they didn't understand, and if someone ever discovered the truth, she would unquestionably be called the new Dark Lady; or something worse, being caught by the Unspeakables to be experimented on and never see the daylight again. And that was a fate far worse than death, Ignotus assured her grimly, because simply put, the Master of Death could not die._

 _Florence didn't know how long she sat there frozen in shock._ I can't die, I can't die _. It was the only thought that occupied her mind. Suddenly, she remarked something._

 _''_ _But you are dead, Ignotus,'' she pointed out, feeling like she was stating the obvious, which she indeed was. The wizard had demanded to be called by his given name, saying that he was a simple man and didn't like anything too fancy, despite being a Lord in his own right. ''So that's not completely true. It's possible to die,'' she continued, almost pleading. She did not want to live forever; watching everyone she cared for die and knowing that she would never be able to follow someday. It was something that she simply didn't wish to contemplate._

 _''_ _I apologise, child. There is indeed a way,'' he said calmly, seeing her distress, and Florence released a sigh of relief. She had a suspicion that this man was a hard person to aggravate._

 _Then, Ignotus proceeded to explain that she would still bleed and hurt the usual way, though she was immune to the average sickness and most poisons. When she wondered out loud if having basilisk venom and phoenix tears in her system changed anything, he beamed at her and stated that it meant that she never needed to worry again about being poisoned; whatever the poison, it simply would not work._

 _Florence would also never die from blood loss, killing curses, or other curses that usually would lead to death. If necessary, her magic would automatically send her body into a magical coma, start healing whatever was needed: be it replenish her blood, close any wound or attach some severed body part (distance didn't matter) – Florence grimaced at that, Ignotus surely wasn't shy or skirmish of talking about that – and an impenetrable protector barrier would surround her while unconscious and defenceless._

 _Another fact was that she would never grow old; she would be forever frozen in her almost eighteen years old body – she was sure that there were many women out there who would be ecstatic at this new information, though she wasn't certain what she really thought about it. Florence would just needed to be careful for the next few years, Ignotus suggested applying some make-up and/or minor charms to appear slightly older as the time passed, like he himself had once done (the glamours, not the make-up), but eventually she would have to withdraw completely from everyone she cared about, permanently move away to another country and change my name._

 _Being perfectly invisible within a second's notice was another perk of her new status. Ignotus told her that the Invisibility Cloak had bonded with her own body and magic, thus she just needed to think of being invisible to activate it. It was the ultimate protection, Ignotus declared rather cheerfully: while under the Cloak's power, no one could sense her at all (no sound, no smell, no magic either), it was like she was actually not there at all._

 _Eager to confirm this, Florence tried immediately and, sure enough, it worked like a charm. (Pun intended.)_

 _To protect this new-found and dangerous knowledge to fall in foreign hands, she had also been given absolutely impenetrable Occlumency shields, not even Dumbledore and Voldemort put together would be able to succeed in entering her mind without her permission. And with some practice she could also master its counterpart, Legillimency, since after mastering one of them, it was easier to become proficient at the other. Admittedly, Florence was very happy, remembering bitterly the gruesome and painful sessions with Severus Snape, which in the end had not serve to anything at all, besides making her miserable. Being a Master Occlumens, she was completely immune against truth serums of any kind – thus avoiding ever unveil Master of Death's secrets unwillingly – and with some training, she could even see through the average glamour and invisibility spells._

 _And finally, Ignotus explained how he was able to die. He had been informed by Death itself, when It appeared before him shortly after his brothers' deaths and proclaimed him Its Master – being the sole survivor among the three, Ignotus had become the true owner of the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand by default, even though they were never in his possession before; the Hallows would never work perfectly for anyone else, that was the main reason why the Wand was famously so unstable and impossible to stay long in one's possession – that when he wished to meet It again, he simply needed to willingly and whole-heartedly give away the Hallows to different people without the knowledge of what they truly were. He had to be absolutely confident that it was what he truly wanted, without leaving any unresolved matters behind, or it wouldn't work._

 _And thus, it was at the old age of two-hundred and sixty-five that Ignotus had lastly greeted Death like an old friend, having led a full and happy life accomplishing his every goal – be it family, wealth, business – and realising every dream – travelling around the world, creating new potions and spells – and leaving the land of the living with no regrets behind._


	7. Chapter 6

_AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited, you make me happy in this otherwise awful weather!_

 _Please, take in account that I only understand the very basics about politics and law and such. I'm sure that the way I wrote this chapter is not the most accurate one concerning this matter and the following chapters will be even more imprecise. Though I will claim here my right of creative license or whatever it's called in English. It's the wizarding world and even in the books their system was not the most ordinary one._

 _If you have ideas for the story, don't be shy, I don't bite._

 _DESCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, if I did… Harry would leave the Wizarding World before his 5_ _th_ _year to another country, so the sheep could deal with Voldemort on their own or simply keep on behaving like ostriches with their heads buried on the sand until the Dark Lord felt like taking over them all._

 _''_ _If you meet a woman of whatever complexion who sails her life with strength and grace and assurance, talk to her! And what you wil_ _l find is that there has been a suffering, that at some time she has left herself for hanging dead.''_

 _– Sena Jeter Naslund, Ahab's Wife, or The Star-Gazer_

Previously:

 _And thus, it was at the old age of two-hundred and sixty-five that Ignotus had lastly greeted Death like an old friend, having led a full and happy life accomplishing his every goal – be it family, wealth, business – and realising every dream – traveling around the world, creating new potions and spells – and leaving the land of the living with no regrets behind._

 **CHAPTER 6**

When Missy offered to take Florence on a tour around the manor, she politely declined. After all, she already knew the propriety quite well and there was no need to pretend around them, unlike with magical humans.

She was eager to meet with Ignotus again; the man had become her great confident in her world, actually the old portrait had been her only friend after she had found out about Dumbledore and company's treachery and she had been unable to trust people anymore as that revelation had been a very hard one to Florence to swallow.

* * *

 _(Flashback)_

 _At Ignotus' insistence, several weeks after her arrival at Peverell Manor, she read through the folders she had received from Gringotts. The old wizard hadn't mentioned anything out loud at the time, though later he confessed that when the young woman came home the prior day in a state of utter shock and blurted out that Albus Dumbledore apparently wasn't dead, he started to become suspicious of the ex-Headmaster and his miraculous survival._

 _Florence had been practising lately to see through glamours when doing her occasional errands in Diagon Alley (with her own glamour in place) and had happened to notice an old wizard called Julius Fitzroy, who had become more and more prominent for the last weeks in the Daily Prophet with his sudden appearance in Britain after the war and his political manoeuvres inside the Ministry. She had realised immediately that the man was wearing a facial glamour and she couldn't help but be curious and test her new powers, mentally fighting her way through his magic; the old man's magic was strong but she was able to see through it. What she found let her momentarily frozen in the middle of the street, her mind unable to process who her eyes were really seeing. When she recovered from her shock, she forwent her shopping altogether and immediately apparated back to the manor._

 _It appeared that Dumbledore had been helping himself to her parents' money for years; in fact, she noticed appalled, the old man had started stealing from the Potter's as soon as they had died that fateful Hallowe'en night. He had transferred periodically 500 Galleons to his own account and had paid 200 Galleons every month since then to the Dursley's, supposedly to help 'take care' of their niece. Then a couple of months before Florence had started at Hogwarts in 1991, there was a rather suspicious transaction to one Molly Weasley of 250 Galleons and some others randomly through the next years with no explanation whatsoever. After that, she found yearly transactions to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley of 250 Galleons each, and also to Ginny Weasley of 150 Galleons starting the following year._

 _To say that Florence was shocked was a huge understatement. At first, she felt hurt and betrayed evidently, though that quickly changed to outright fury and rage, her magic violently lashing out blindly at her surroundings. She intended to leave the manor in that exact moment and apparate directly to the Burrow and confront those thieves for their treachery against someone who had always considered them like the family she had never had._

 _As usual, Ignotus was the voice of reason and succeeded in calm down and convince the heartbroken witch that she could not just charge in the Weasley's home and throw accusations at them out of nowhere. True, she had the evidence of their misdeeds however Florence needed to be careful with her actions in this situation. If in fact Albus Dumbledore was inexplicably alive – Florence wasn't one hundred per cent certain that it was really him, though she was feeling surer by the minute – there could be something even more serious going on. For all the both of them knew, her (ex-) friends and honorary family could be part of some nefarious plan devised by Dumbledore. As Ignotus definitely pointed out, there must be a questionable reason as to why the ex-Leader of the Light had fabricated his own death and posed now as a different person in the Wizarding World._

 _For the next weeks Florence avoided everyone in the wizarding world by announcing to her friends via letter that she intended to travel for some time (with destination unknown) as she needed a while to be alone after the war. She had received a displeased letter in answer written by Molly Weasley, with a hidden – and inoffensive, after a swift_ Finite Encantatem _– tracking charm for good measure, stating that she shouldn't go where no one of them could reach her quickly. Mind you, she didn't put it that way of course. The woman who Florence had previously thought of as a mother could be as cunning as the best Slytherin when she wanted to and it was only now that the young witch's eyes had been opened that she could really see their fabricated concern for her well-being for what it truly was. Incensed, Florence didn't deign responding to the impertinent letter and decided that should they ask her later about it, she would merely say that she hadn't received any letter; after all, it was possible that the mail could be lost or intercepted and there was no way of proving whether that was true or not as the tracking charm had been disabled._

Let them stew in frustration for a long while _, she had thought spitefully._

 _After that rather enlightening day, Florence paid more attention to the old man's political actions. At first, it seemed that Julius Fitzroy was your average light wizard – claiming that blood status didn't matter and with pro-muggle views – however as the time passed and he became surer of his standing he had started to bring some extreme ideas concerning Muggles and Magical Creatures._

 _Florence remembered quite well the morning when (about three weeks after her shocking discovery) she had read the front page's headline in the Daily Prophet announcing the approval of the new regulations and restrictions for werewolves and vampires, and wondering rather dismayed what the war against Voldemort had been about if this was the result. Hadn't the Light Side fought for equality among magical humans and creatures alike? The muggle-like view of their world had slowly but steadily grown and people (or sheep as Florence started to call them in her mind) were becoming more intolerant of anyone who was different; human or creature didn't matter._

 _To her horror, she found out that the utterly nasty Dolores Umbridge was always beside the concealed Dumbledore on the front of these political actions. She would like very much to know how she had escaped being sent to Azkaban for her actions during Voldemort's short reign, with her 'Muggle-Born Registration Commission' where she had prosecuted many innocent people. Certainly, the cruel woman had to pay several people quite handsomely to keep her freedom intact. And that was another fact that Florence was very discontent about; the corruption in the Ministry continued alive and well. Right after Voldemort's defeat, it had appeared that the Ministry would change for the better. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been appointed Minister and Florence had trusted that he would do his better to take their world into the right path. Alas, that belief hadn't last long._

 _Shortly thereafter, the pro-muggles laws were instated as well. The few traditions that the Ministry hadn't previously banned were at this point in time considered Dark and anyone found practising them would be automatically sent to Azkaban with a minimum sentence of 2 years. The muggle mentally was becoming rather intense and each and every magical concept that could upset the Muggle-Born and/or their families was to be immediately dismissed and replaced by their Muggle counterparts if there was one. For example, the practise or even the mere mention in public of the Magical Traditional Festivities such as Yule, Samhain and the like, were completely prohibited. Even the school and other public-selling books were amended to this new way of thinking and not even in the history section one could find mention of them after the Ministry had their way._

 _Obviously, not everyone was happy with the current state of affairs. The Pureblood families had been understandably outraged by this, though after the prompt incarceration in Azkaban of one Lord Silvius Greengrass due to his loud and angry protests against the Ministry's actions, everyone with a minimum of intellect kept their opinions to themselves._

 _Seeing these appalling happenings, Florence also had become more and more outraged with the prejudiced Ministry and decided that she actually should travel somewhere and take some time to be alone and far from all those bigoted sheep before she could do or say something that she would surely regret. She was aware that if she honestly and openly stated her opinion on the matter, she would be following Lord Greengrass swiftly into Azkaban._

 _If she hadn't been so interested in the news and political events lately she wouldn't have noticed the slow but evident change in the way that her image was being portrayed to the masses. Not even a few weeks prior, most of the Wizarding World had been singing praises and declaring their unending gratitude to their Saviour; however now, there were several rumours about her whereabouts and possible reasoning behind them. Some would say that she was hiding somewhere because she was planning and gathering allies to take over the Ministry; others declared that she was practising forbidden magic and turning Dark, as she had become addicted to it due to her defeat of Lord Voldemort. Florence was convinced that these rumours had been instigated by Dumbledore and his lackeys, because only the Weasley's and Granger knew that she supposedly was not in the country at the moment. If that had been indeed the case and the Girl-Who-Lived was not in Great-Britain, she would have been taken quite off-guard when she returned and was faced with the fickle sheep's new opinion of her._

 _Ignotus supported her decision to get away for some time, adding cryptically that she should visit other countries to learn how other cultures and traditions were like and see what was severely lacking in Britain. She had a suspicion that his only friend was hinting at something more, though she didn't know exactly what. He made himself scarce after, abandoning his portrait for the rest of the day and leaving Florence with several unanswered questions._

* * *

''Welcome back, child,'' the cheerful voice of his only friend suddenly brought Florence back out of her memories.

Surprised, she turned sharply to her left – at the same time feeling a sense of _dejà-vu_ – and smiled genuinely and brightly and for the first her features were bared of any mask or restrain. She hadn't expected the possibility of the wizard remembering her; it was a different time and dimension after all.

''Ignotus!'', she cried happily, quickly approaching the portrait.

The wizard stared at her for a few heartbeats, as if searching for something, though he remained his jovial self. Then he nodded to himself as if satisfied with what he found and positively beamed at her.

''Firstly, how was the travel? Did you have any trouble passing through?'', he asked curious, as Missy popped in with a tray laid with tea and a plate with small sandwiches.

Florence took a seat in front of the table where her snack had been left by the house-elf and prepared herself a cup of the hot beverage, before taking a comforting sip. Only then she sated the curiosity of his friend.

''Everything went very well. The ritual worked flawlessly and Harry was easy to convince at giving me a chance. I already went to Gringotts and Amelia Bones is already on Harry Potter's death case,'' she explained before eating a sandwich. Merlin, she was ravenous! ''The article announcing the news will most definitely come out tomorrow morning and the funeral will be surely the day after.''

Ignotus heaved a sigh of relief after hearing this. After getting to know him better, Florence had learned that he was a worrywart, even if his usual cheery disposition didn't give that idea. She simply smiled at him again, happy to have someone – even if he was a painting – that truly worried about her and never demanded anything back for it.

''Ignotus, how is that you remember me?'', she wanted to know rather curious herself, after another sip of her hot and delicious brew.

''Being the Master of Death has many perks, my dear,'' he said with a smirk. ''Even if you are the current Mistress, I was still in possession of the Hallows when my portrait was created. As you already know, a magical portrait, if painted with the subject's permission, usually absorbs part of their magic. Thus, inside this painting I still have the power necessary to send my memories to my counterpart's portrait on another dimension with a little ritual.''

The young witch was quite surprised with this new bit of information as she was not aware that what her friend had done was at all possible. Even after all these years as the Death Mistress, she knew that there was always something more to be learned about magic and her immortal status.

Florence passed the rest of the morning telling the whole tale of her journey to Ignotus as she took this opportunity to rest comfortably on her armchair. She was still feeling tired but she just drank some more tea and pushed the need to sleep to the back of her mind.


	8. Chapter 7

_AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited!_

 _A special thanks to_ _ **magitech, RebeccaRoy**_ _and_ _ **VeltalO**_ _for giving me great ideas about how Hogwarts can improve. I still don't know which ideas I'll actually use in later chapters though I am very grateful for the inspiration that all they gave me._

 _I apologize for taking so long to update but my muse didn't want to cooperate and thus this chapter is not that exciting. Hopefully the next ones will be more interesting._

* * *

 _''_ _Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colours. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.''_

― _Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky_

 **CHAPTER 7**

After a light lunch, Florence worked on some paperwork from Gringotts and penned a few letters that she would send later if the next days progressed as she expected them to. She was quite confident that her initial plans would proceed smoothly and then she could really start her quest in changing this world's biased mentality. There was no time to lose if she wanted the magical world prepared against the dangers that were the muggles before it was too late to do something about it.

Later that evening, she left the manor to advance another of her plans. What she was about to do could be most definitely considered deadly dangerous if one was not the Mistress of Death. However, she had absolutely no need to worry about losing her life.

With barely a sound, she apparated a few metres away from the Gaunt Shack just outside of the village of Little Hangleton. The old house was filthier and more dilapidated than she remembered from the Pensieve memory that she had watched when she was sixteen, though she barely noticed it as she searched for possible wards around the Shack with her magic.

For a second, she was surprised to find that were none, except for a long-standing Anti-Muggle ward; although she quickly reasoned that it would be suspicious if this old and abandoned house was protected by powerful magic. Satisfied with this, Florence carefully stepped inside the rundown building that appeared as if it could collapse at any second. Even if she would not sustain any permanent damage if that happened, she would still feel the usual pain before Death's magic started to heal her body and that was something that was entirely unpleasant.

As she had expected, she felt the ring's magic from under the floor boards where once had been the kitchen. Its magic was positively Dark, both from the deadly Dark Curse created by Voldemort to protect it and from the Horcrux itself.

After magically levitating the floor board, Florence found a golden box sitting innocently underneath in that small hiding place. She could feel the curse beckoning her to reach out and take the ring from the box. It was like a demanding whisper that wanted to trap her magic and take over her mind and body as it promised that it could fulfil her deepest wish if she only touched the ring and put it on her finger. Admittedly, the call was very compelling and she wasn't sure that she could have resisted it if she hadn't been protected beforehand and hadn't known what to expect. It was something that she had wondered ever since she had been aware of its fate in her world: how could have Dumbledore, a wizard so powerful and wise, been so stupid as to put the ring on and almost die because of it, already knowing that the object housed a piece of the Dark Lord's soul? Now she could somewhat understand. The curse's call was truly alluring and almost impossible to resist and then adding to the fact that the old man had just found the Resurrection Stone where he had least expected – a magical ancient artefact that he had searched for and wished to own for so many decades – it was not really a surprise that he had surrendered easily.

Not wasting more time than necessary, she took a pair of special gloves from her right pocket and swiftly put them on. They were woven with many protection and containment spells mainly against powerful Dark Curses. They would absorb the magic on the object they first touched, though after that they would be rendered useless until they had been cleansed of the curse by a specific cleaning solution. These gloves had been created and developed until its present state by George Weasley after the Second Wizard War and had become a great hit in the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' shelves, being purchased mainly by Aurors and other Magicals that interacted regularly with hostile magic.

As soon as Florence made contact with the ring, she could sense the curse trying to reach out to her magical core and settle its 'claws' on her hands. It fought fiercely for several moments before she felt the magic loose intensity and the gloves work flawlessly. She felt a sigh of relief unconsciously leave her lips; for a moment, she had feared that this particular curse would be too strong to contain and she was very happy that her worry had been needless.

Inspecting the ring closely, she could see that the Resurrection Stone once embedded on it was now no more than a black stone without any magical power and the symbol of the Deadly Hallows had completely vanished. Florence knew that the same had happened to the Elder Wand – now no more than merely a powerful wand, but not unbeatable anymore – and to the Invisibility Cloak – now a normal invisibility cloak that would conceal its owner before starting to deteriorate like any other magical cloak – as the moment Florence had arrived in this world these three ancient magical artefacts ceased to exist in that fashion.

After making sure that the entirety of curse was gone, Florence conjured a plain, small wooden box and guarded the ring inside of it before putting it safely in her pocket. Next, she removed the gloves leaving them folded inside-out and being careful not to touch the side of the fabric that had made contact with the curse and they, too, were put in a pocket after being enclosed inside another small box. Lastly, she returned the floor board to its rightful place and banished the golden box where the ring had been found in and left the shack like the place had never been disturbed.

Her reasoning to this little adventure was fairly simple.

When she had started to make plans about travelling through time and dimensions, she had pondered what it would be the best approach to the 'Voldemort Problem'. Her first and impulsive solution to this was that she could simply gather all the Horcruxes – as she had already known all their locations it was a simple task to undertake – and then face the Dark Lord and kill him once again. She had already done it before when she had so little magical experience and was weaker than him, so it should be more than feasible now that she was so much more powerful and knowledgeable about magic. However, she was aware that this option was not so simple. Even if she had succeeded in defeat Voldemort, there was still the Death Eaters to consider as there would surely be someone eager to take their fallen master's place. As the Ministry was unwilling at this point to acknowledge that You-Know-Who had returned, the mass break-out that would occur in the beginning of the New Year – if this timeline continued similar to her own – would be blamed on Sirius Black and the Dark Side could keep advancing their plans unbothered from the shadows. Florence was not arrogant enough to even consider the possibility that she could defeat them all in her own in a matter of months. That was precious time that she could not afford to lose if she wished to start changing the wizarding world's narrow and naïve view about muggles and the danger that they posed to anything magical as soon as possible.

When Florence had first shared these thoughts with Ignotus, her only friend had asked her to explain in more detail what exactly she knew about the last two magical wars. What were the views of the Dark Side? And the Light Side? What was her honest opinion about all that? And was she certain that what she knew about both sides of the war was all true or was most of it speculation and whatever Dumbledore had told her?

She had been surprised at first by those questions, though she shouldn't have really been. She had come to learn that Ignotus was a very wise wizard; having had travelled around the world and lived for more than 250 years, he had had the opportunity to acquire a more perceptive view of the world that not many could admit to have. It was quite reasonable to be able to analyse both sides of a conflict before he made his educated opinion on the matter.

So, Florence tried to neutrally ponder about those points for some time and finally reach a solution that she thought could be the best on the longer term for the survival of the Wizarding World.

When she was younger and trusting, she had believed that being Dark was the same as being evil and no one around her – meaning mostly the Light Side – had ever stated a word against that biased view. However, from the day she had met Ignotus, she had quickly learned that the world was not so black and white and most often than not there were numerous shades of grey. Even Florence had a rather grey view of the world and people that she had not acknowledged until her friend had finally pointed it out to her.

The true was that she had been so brainwashed by the Light Side about what was right and wrong and good and evil that any different opinion she had about their 'normal' point of view, she had automatically kept them to herself and did her best to ignore them and simply agreed to what was generally accepted by society. Her desire to be 'normal' due to the Dursley's ill-treatment of her had contributed heavily to that way of thinking and Florence suspected that was something Dumbledore had counted on when he had left her on the Muggles' doorstep. After all, the old wizard could not have his precious pawn with a mind and opinions of her own that could clearly set them apart; he needed someone who followed his words without question and Florence bitterly admitted that the man had succeeded in accomplish that plan.

Since she had first stepped in Diagon Alley – and later Hogwarts – she had been told that Dark Wizards were irrevocably evil and that Lord Voldemort was the most horrible of them all. At the time Florence had no way or reason to even suspect, though later remembering those instances, she could see clearly that Dumbledore had not so subtly stated that it was her duty to fight against the Dark Lord and his minions. The old wizard had been preparing her since she was eleven to sacrifice herself for the 'Greater Good' with absolutely no care that the young girl was virtually ignorant about the wizarding world.

So what if Voldemort had killed her parents and tried to kill her as well? She had not been the only one to suffer because of him – in fact, she could even say that she somehow had avenged her father and mother right after he had killed them by banishing his body and forcing him to live as a wandering spirit for thirteen years, and that was something no one else could admit to have ever done – so why should be her, a clueless and inexperienced child, be chosen to fight the enemy when even trained adults cowered at the mere mention of his name? In hindsight, she realised quite appalled that Dumbledore had only done what he had deemed the barely necessary and had left the major and most dangerous confrontations and situations on her young hands to try and somewhat miraculously save the day. How had she not died or suffered any permanent damage was completely beyond her.

She had no wish in being the Minister of Magic or whatever official title that would give her complete power over the magical world. As long as they kept completely separated from the muggles and the prejudices against magical creatures and dark magic lessened, she was content in living her life without bothering much with politics. And those were some of the points included in the Dark Side's plans after taking over, which fitted perfectly in her plans as well.

In a sudden moment of enlightening, a startling thought entered her mind rendering her body frozen for a few heartbeats. _What if the Dark Lord could somehow change his tactics to take control of the Wizarding World?_

Florence was very well aware that Voldemort was practically insane ever since he had been resurrected in that graveyard in Little Hangleton. She was certain that was due to all the Horcruxes he had created in his mad and desperate path to avoid death at any cost. If she could somehow find a way to restore his soul – at least partly – she had a greater possibility to succeed in change the Dark Side's methods, as the Dark Lord would be much more rational and approachable to a potential alliance or whatever she would plan on doing.

She knew now that, though she was in the grey side of the spectrum, her views were much more dark than light and she was confident that she could in some way convince Voldemort in joining forces with her. She had witnessed what had happened when the Light Side had been given free reign of the Wizarding World and that was something that she was sure neither Voldemort or any other Dark Wizard wished to see, let even experience.

After sharing her considerations to Ignotus once again, he had beamed at her and said that there was indeed a way to return Horcruxes without the soul's owner being none the wiser; in fact, it was a fairly easy and quick ritual to do seeing as she was the Death Mistress and proceeded to lecture her on what she should do.

And that was what Florence was doing in a bare room in the basement of Peverell Manor right after she had returned from the Gaunt Shack. The drawings on the floor were quite simple with just the runes for Life, Death, Energy, Binding and Stability in each point of the previously drawn five-pointed star. Then, she carefully placed the ring in the middle of the star and started chanting the short verses of the Spell to join once more the soul's piece to his rightful owner.

After about two minutes of chanting and the feeling of the steady increasing of magic in the room to the point of almost suffocation, there was an explosion of light and magic and then there was nothing but silence and Florence's heavy breathing.

Opening her eyes (she had closed them against the onslaught of bright light) Florence saw that the runes and star had vanished, though the ring continued sitting innocently where she had placed it previously. Approaching slowly, she probed the object with her magic and was thrilled to confirm that she had been successful in liberating the Horcrux.

* * *

That night at a certain unplottable manor, the Dark Lord slept away in his king-sized bed utterly oblivious to the plans of one powerful and determined witch. He was unaware as well when a sliver of his soul, which he had previously split, returned to its rightful place and that would slowly and subtly make him once again the intelligent and logical wizard that he was in his youth.


	9. Chapter 8

AN: Thank you to everyone that reviewed, followed and added this story to their favourites. I'm always happy to know that people are enjoying what I write.

I'm still looking for someone to help me with little things in this story, such as misspelling, proper English expressions, some ideas and opinions about a chapter, etc. As my first language is not English, sometimes I have a hard time figure out how to write something that doesn't really have a translation (usually I think up and make some notes for this story in Portuguese). So if there is someone interested please PM me, this way I can write faster and frustrate myself less.

* * *

 _''_ _The ethereal beauty of the female semblance conceals that they really are dangerous like a great white shark in the most peaceful and deep water.''_

 _–_ _Czon_

 **CHAPTER 8**

The next day, Florence made her way to Madam Bones' office promptly a few minutes before the appointed hour. Although it could not be seen in her blank mask (once more, she had glamoured her hair and eyes brown), her mood that morning was the best she had felt in years; she had comfortably slept all night long without waking even once and she had a purpose in her life now and was taking the necessary steps to carry out her plans – which until that moment were going smoothly.

At this time the British wizarding world was already aware of the tragic death of their Boy Hero – at the hands of his muggle family no less – and Florence was certain that Dumbledore and the Ministry would have a very long and stressful day trying to avoid the outrage of the masses via Owlers and other unsavoury magical methods of communication.

How fickle the sheep could be?

Until yesterday Harry Potter was a liar and foolish brat that everyone was eager to comment on and point their fingers at; today he would be considered a misunderstood and suffering boy who had died too young at the hands of the people who should have been taking care of him. Thus, their collective reaction would be to blame the authority figures of this country for this disastrous injustice, promptly forgetting their own awful attitude and utter disrespect to the Boy-Who-Lived just before they learned of this news.

 _There is something to be said about the Magical British's short term memory_ , Florence mused sardonically as she turned to the hall where Madam Bones' office was situated.

Upon seeing the incompetent witch from the previous day seated behind her desk too busy applying red lipstick to notice someone approaching, Florence sneered in her direction with disdain and her good mood dropped a little.

Merlin, she couldn't wait to start changing these appalling sheep's mentality.

Only in Great-Britain there were wizards and witches who honestly thought that being a pureblood was much more important than being intelligent and having a mind of their own. Really, it was no wonder that this country was the way it was; with people stuck in the past, physically and mentally wise, Great-Britain would never progress and would be a perpetual laughing stock to more advanced countries such as Japan and United States, who didn't wish to have anything to do with the British beyond the absolutely necessary. And worse, the British Ministry was mostly aware of this. Still, they preferred to keep their scheming ways, hiding the harsh truth from the masses and controlling them according to their whims, even if the majority of the outside world was mocking them relentlessly for their utterly outdated mind-set.

Florence stopped practically in front of the woman and was able to finally learn from a small plaque sitting on the left side of the desk that her name was Juniper Parkinson.

''Excuse me interrupt your beauty treatment, miss,'' she said, her voice dripping with sheer sarcasm and disdain, when it seemed like the woman would not be finished primping herself any time soon, ''but I have an appointed meeting with Madam Bones at ten.''

The woman jumped, startled, in her chair, the small mirror, which it was previously held in her left hand, falling and promptly smashing on the tiled floor; her eyes raised to look directly at Florence, widening with recognition, and her freshly painted red lips twisted in a grimace.

Florence waited for a few heartbeats, simply raising an eyebrow at her in question. The other witch glared at her in silence, clearly not happy in the least to meet her again.

The woman's intelligence, it seemed, was in worse condition than the previous day as it appeared that she had lost her speech faculties. Florence rolled her eyes, annoyed, not fighting at all against the urge to do so. Sure, she could wear a blank mask like the best of the Slytherins, though this insignificant woman was not even worth it and there was something in Juniper that simply rubbed Florence off the wrong way.

''Well, what are you waiting for?'', she demanded in a hiss, sharply breaking their silence stare down, her patience having vanished completely.

The woman's glare deepened for a second before she jumped from her seat and do what she should have done already without prompting, though she still kept silent. Florence wondered idly if that was because Juniper feared that she could say something that she would later regret or if she simply didn't know what to say about the offensive attitude against her person. Smirking, Florence had a feeling that was the latter.

After confirming with Madam Bones that she was free to start their meeting, silently the assistance made a motion for Florence to enter the office of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and gave her a wide berth when Florence walked towards the door. With a last raised brow and a smirk at Juniper (without Amelia noticing), the powerful lady stepped into the room and closed the door in the woman's affronted face.

After exchanging the basic pleasantries, Amelia went directly to the reason of this meeting.

''Yesterday, you mentioned some memories that Harry sent to you. Is it possible to view them now?''

''Of course,'' Florence acquiesced promptly, before she took out a large crystal vial from her pocket and gently put it on the desk between the two of them. ''However, before starting, I'd like to ask if I could take care of the preparations to Harry's funeral; I've read in the ' _The Prophet'_ that it will be tomorrow?''

''Yes, of course,'' Amelia granted promptly and reached for a piece of parchment. ''We have decided last night that Harry should be put to rest besides his parents but I have no knowledge of the details for the funeral. I will send a note to the person in charge of it at the moment that you will meet her after our meeting. This way you can take care of everything as it is your right as Harry's blood family.'' She scribbled something quick on the parchment and with a tap of her wand the paper folded itself and flew from the room, supposedly towards the office of the person in question. ''Her name is Beryl Cross and she is used to take care of situations like this one, so if you need some help, don't hesitate in asking for her advice.''

After Amelia explained where that woman's office was and Florence thanked her for her assistance, they turned to the purpose of their meeting.

''Harry left me several memories, although I only brought a few ones which I consider the most important to watch,'' Florence stated in a grave tone and looked the other witch steadily in the eye, fingering the vial that she had previously taken from her pocket. ''Please, be aware that all of them are quite shocking and, after you view them, I will not in any way be offended if you'll need an Unspeakable's expertise to prove that they are in fact genuine.''

Amelia only nodded, visibly conscious that the next minutes would not be pleasant at all.

Florence knew that most likely the older woman had already saw much more staggering things during her long years as the Head of her department and as a Auror before that, though she considered this situation was even more shocking as Harry Potter was a child that everyone believed had been raised in a loving home and for ten years the boy had been deemed the wonderful and beloved hero of the Wizarding World without any tainted comments from the media or the Ministry, with only the (deceitful) words of Albus Dumbledore to inform everyone how the Boy-Who-Lived grew up.

Despite the unspoken meaning behind Florence's words, Amelia reached out for the Pensieve on the corner of her desk with her both hands steady and unfaltering.

The next half hour passed in complete silence. Amelia had resolutely submerged in the silver memories alone after her companion had declined to join her answering that she had already seen more than enough; and Florence waited patiently for the other woman to finish viewing a life history of horrors not unlike her own.

When Amelia eventually came back, she was quite pale and her usual composed demeanour was nowhere to be found. The woman's eyes were flashing with fury and outrage and her hands were folded in fists and slightly shaking as if she was restraining herself to not reach for her wand and start cursing randomly at anything in sight.

Florence didn't speak and simply let Amelia gather her wits. Admittedly, she had expected this kind of reaction; in fact, she would be severely worried if the other witch had come out calm and unaffected as if she hadn't seen anything wrong in those memories.

After closing her eyes and breathing deeply a few times, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement regarded her patiently waiting companion with a fierce gaze.

''Despite not having said anything on the matter, I suspect that you have some kind of plan to bring the culprit of this atrocities to justice, am I right?'', she asked with a raised eyebrow and an expression that was not kind or pleasant at all.

Both of them knew, without ever speak it out loud, that Amelia was not talking about the muggles, who were already in the Ministry's custody and more than likely would never return to their normal life at Privet Drive. No, their concern was a bigger fish, namely Albus Dumbledore. They were both aware that it was not that simple or easy to take down a wizard as powerful as him without incontestable evidence and heavy political power.

Florence smirked maliciously and silently at her for a moment. She was happy to know for certain that she had another ally in her quest against Dumbledore. Amelia had never been shy in her opinions about the acclaimed Headmaster of Hogwarts, always trying her best to curb the old man's more outlandish ideas, even though she did not succeed often – after all, it was no secret that Dumbledore had almost half of the Wizengamot following his every word without a single thought about the matter being discussed – and Florence had counted on that to help her further her plans.

She took several folded sheets of parchment from her pocket and offered them to her companion.

''Let's just say that my meeting with Gringotts yesterday morning was rather enlightening,'' she simply said, her unpleasant expression still in place.

Amelia took the offered documents in silent and perused them attentively. With each new page scanned, her eyebrows raised an inch more in her forehead, as her eyes widened in astonishment with the shocking information. After finishing all the pages, she returned them to Florence and merely stated with her voice commendably steady:

''I'm looking forward to see what you will accomplish in the next session of the Wizengamot, Lady Peverell.''

Florence chuckled lightly at that and the rest of the morning was spend with her explaining to Madam Bones what exactly she wished to accomplish in the next few days in the Wizengamot.

* * *

After her rather productive meeting with Amelia Bones, Florence left Harry's memories in the older witch's possession to properly attest their authentic via the Unspeakables. Amelia had assured her that she believed them to be genuine; it was simply a matter of avoiding future faultfinders and Dumbledore's silver tongue.

She took her directions to Beryl Cross' office and found that the old lady was quite accommodating and insightful in her help to prepare Harry Potter's funeral and never once Florence heard the typical unwanted and pretentious comments from her that usually one says when offering their condolences to the family of one who just died recently. Actually, apart from a sincere sounding _'I'm very sorry for your loss',_ the lady was all business and efficiency, which Florence appreciated greatly.

If she had been able to, Florence would have chosen a private and small service but she knew that was impossible. Everybody would want to be present at the ceremony – independently of their motives – to say the final goodbye to the Boy-Who-Lived. So, she tried to prepare the funeral in a way that she believed that Harry would have liked, as simple and unpretentious as she possible could get away with.

* * *

At Grimmauld Place, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were alone grieving for their lost godson, both drowning in guilt in different ways.

Sirius had screamed and cursed and cried. Without giving it too much though, he had closed down the mansion from the inside as Head of the Black family, meaning that no one could currently enter the house without his permission or before he disabled the spell. He wished to be alone and the last person he wanted to see was Dumbledore or anyone from the Order of Phoenix, manly the ones that had stood guard to Harry all summer and never saw what was happening inside that house.

Remus had collapsed in the chair that he had previously occupied at breakfast and simply cried, feeling his guilt painfully eating up at him as he recalled all the opportunities he had had to talk and get to know Harry better and he had dismissed always with the thought that they would have time later to catch up and being part of his honorary godson's life.

He had heard his best friend locking the house and he couldn't find it in himself to care. He knew that the blame to what had happened was not only theirs to carry. With the utter shock of learning of Harry's brutal and sudden death, his blind belief towards Dumbledore had died a rather abrupt and painful death as well and he didn't even want to think of what he would do if the old man appeared before him at that moment.

As they drowned in their grief, they took some time to notice that an owl was trying to gain their attention by pecking rather insistently on the glass of the kitchen's window. When they finally did notice it, the two men looked at each other for a moment, as if only now noting that they were not alone in their mourning process.

Remus decided to get up from his seat and see what the letter was about, though he swore to himself that if by chance that message was from a certain headmaster with empty platitudes he'd burn it to ashes without even reading it.

After relieving the owl from its burden, the bird took off immediately without waiting for a response to the letter or a treat for its stomach.

Sirius approached his best friend cautiously and they both took out their wands and proceeded to cast every spell and counter-curse they knew of (including Dark ones), before opening the envelope which had only _Sirius Black_ written in calligraphy that none of them knew of.

Confident that the letter was not cursed and with more curiosity than ever, they opened the envelope, only to receive another shock in their already devastating and turbulent morning.

''What the hell?''


	10. Chapter 9

_An: Wow! This chapter wrote itself in a few hours. My muse was all out today and I sized the opportunity to get as much writing done as I could._

 _Thanks to everyone for your support, I am still amazed that so many people like my story._

 _Please enjoy this new chapter and tell me your opinions if you wish to._

* * *

 _''_ _Truth is not fully explosive, but purely electric. You don't blow the world up with the truth; you shock it into motion.''_

 _–_ _Criss Jami, Healology_

 **CHAPTER 9**

Sirius Black received the second major shock of his day when he read the letter that some mysterious person had unexpectedly sent him.

 _Mr. Sirius Black,_

 _We do not know each other personally and thus you may take everything that I write in this letter with a grain of salt. As what I have to say is rather important and pertinent to your godson Harry Potter, I took the liberty to charm this letter and ink with a true spell in order to avoid possible denials and doubts you may have. (Feel free to confirm it.)_

 _As I mentioned, we never met before; however I do know about you and the actual true behind your unfair incarceration at Azkaban and the true betrayer of the Potter's on that faithful Hallowe'en night fourteen years ago._

 _You see, I am Harry's cousin from the Potter's side and to a certain degree your cousin as well. It is a well-kept secret that Charlus Potter and your aunt Dorea Black-Potter had had a son shortly after they were married. Unfortunately, the child, Daniel, was born a Squib and they decided that it would be best that their son be adopted by a French Squib couple. Long story short, I am Daniel Argent's (former Potter) grand-daughter._

 _I've been trading letters with Harry since before the Summer Holidays and he had told me much about everything and everyone on his life. I have to say that I was not impressed about the adults' attitude in his life; especially the ones that claimed to love him and want the best for him._

 _Harry had thought the world of you, Sirius Black, and it was a huge blow that you sided with Albus Dumbledore to make his already miserable existence even more unbearable. He told me that you were the last person that he believed would dismissed his pleas about not wanting to return to that wretched muggle house and you disappointed him beyond belief when you agreed with that man's conniving and selfish decision._

 _The second sheet of parchment inside this envelope is a copy of the last letter Harry sent to me. Actually he wrote it a few hours before he died. I warn you that that letter is not an easy one to read though you will be able to confirm for yourself just how alone and let down Harry was feeling._

 _You may think that I contacted you to simply make you feel even more miserable about this and rub it in your face that you are one of the people to blame for the death of your godson; I assure you that it is not my intention. What I am trying to accomplish with this is opening your eyes to the true that is so clear to me._

 _You and most people in Britain have such a blind faith in Dumbledore that you don't even stop to really think about the true consequences of his demands and your actions where that man is concerned until after the deed is done and the situation is irreparable. I find it quite appalling that he has such a great power upon the people and no one seems to see exactly what he is trying to do with his underhanded words and manipulative ways._

 _Tell me, Mr. Black, where was Dumbledore when you were imprisoned in Azkaban without a trial? Surely, the Chief Warlock could have demanded a trial in 1981 to one of the members of his Order of Phoenix, don't you think? Even if everyone believed that you were guilty, even without any evidence I may add, it was – and still is – your right to have a proper trial before the Wizengamot to be fairly judged for your (alleged) crimes._

 _Didn't you ever wonder why Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. had had a trial even though there were witnesses to their despicable crimes before they were incarcerated and you didn't even get a forewarning before you were shipped to Azkaban?_

 _I will leave you with these questions and let you draw your own conclusions; perhaps this way you will see how the world is not as black and white as you seem to believe. Despite your family's treatment of you, not everyone Dark is evil and unscrupulous; and despite the late Potter's kindness and acceptation of you in their loving family, not everyone Light is as moral and benevolent as them. A very wise man once taught me that the world is mostly filled with tones of grey, every human is made by light and darkness and it is up to each one of us to decide our path independently of our magic affiliation and the world's biased views of what is right and wrong._

 _In the end of this letter I leave you a gift that I hope you will use (after checking that it is untainted, I'm sure). After the last written line, please tap your wand and say 'appareo' and a crystal vial will appear. Inside there is an untraceable potion that, not unlike_ Polyjiuce, _will change your appearance for eight hours (currently there are four dosages inside; a swallow per each will suffice). This will allow you to be present at the trial where the culprits of Harry's death will be judged and see for yourself exactly what kind of man is the Leader of the Light and the one you trusted with your godson's well-being._

 _If you have any questions considering this matter, I will gladly answer them. You will need only to attach your response letter to the post owl the next time I'll contact you._

 _Best regards_

 _Lady Florence Peverell_

After reading the letter twice, Sirius and Remus looked at each other silently for a few moments. They were so shocked by this unexpected letter and its own startling content that their current grief was put aside temporarily. Mutely, Remus cast the revealing spell to confirm the sender's allegations and indeed there it was: the whole letter shone brightly for a second confirming that this unknown witch was not lying.

Nodding his head to his friend, Sirius tapped the end of the letter and casted 'Appareo' as explained and immediately there was a vial filled with a light blue liquid in front of them. No taking any chances, Sirius casted a few searching spells to check that there was no poison inside and another to confirm that it was indeed a disguising kind of potion (the vial shone a pale yellow for an instant). He put aside the vial and the letter after they were reassured of their authenticity and retrieved the forgotten envelope on the kitchen's table top.

Swallowing deeply and with steadily growing dread, Sirius unfolded the second letter and both of them forced themselves to read all of it, even if their wish was to stop after only reading the first few sentences. Unbeknownst to them, their first though was the same as Madam Bones': the letter seemed eerily like a suicide note and it kept getting harder with each line they read of the last words of Harry Potter. Words that were filled with sadness, loneliness, hurt and most of all resignation.

Sirius instantly started to cry tears of anguish the moment he read the sentence where his godson's mentioned he was fine with dying and only got worse after that. Remus wasn't taking it any better and cried alongside his friend as each word stabbed both of them as if they were sharp knives painfully and ruthlessly imbedded on their bodies.

After finishing the most agonising and heart-wrenching letter that they ever had read, Sirius and Remus stayed silent for a long time, each reflecting on their own past mistakes and what they could do to avenge their godson even if it was only in a small way. Even without speaking, they both shared the same opinion: Albus Dumbledore would pay for his part in Harry's demise. The old man did not take part directly in that tragedy but now they both were aware that the headmaster had always known about the Boy-Who-Lived's family circumstances and never bothered to rectify the situation. Worse, it seemed that the man had purposely separated Sirius from Harry all those years so he could have full control of Harry's living arrangements and later use that to his advantage in controlling the boy for his own plans.

Looking each other in the eye, the two Marauders silently swore that Dumbledore would regret ever messing with their godson. They didn't care what they had to do to make it happen; hell, they would turn Dark if necessary to take that deceitful wizard down.

With that determination and promise in mind, the two men pushed aside their grieving a little longer and started planning and drafting a letter to send to the mysterious Florence Peverell as soon as they had the chance to, declaring their willingness to help her if she had her own plans against Dumbledore.

* * *

Severus Snape had locked himself in his quarters in the dungeons after receiving the shocking news of Harry Potter's death and had gone straight to his liquor closet even though it was too early in the morning to start drinking alcohol. He still couldn't quite believe that the person he had survived all these years to protect was no more and needed some strong support to help him live through that already strenuous and distressing day.

After he had learned of Lily Potter's death, his best and only friend, all those years ago, he had hastily run to Godric's Hallow to see for himself the truth of that information and had found his beloved friend's already cooling body in the house's nursery with her baby son wailing for his mother and his forehead bleeding from the Killer Curse rebound.

Severus didn't know how long he had sat there on the floor embracing Lily and crying guilty and desolate tears for what he had made happen with his foolish and selfish actions; after all, it was him that had relayed the Prophecy to the Dark Lord and thus point Voldemort's desire to destroy his possible rival in the Potter's direction.

Afterwards, the only thing keeping him alive and not drowning completely in his own despair and guilt was the Vow he had made to Lily to protect his son's life. Dumbledore hired him as the Potions Professor at Hogwarts and as the time passed, Severus too had started to fall in the Headmaster's web of lies and manipulations; he, who had promised himself to never again believe and follow anyone blindly after his erroneous allegiance to the Dark Lord, had trusted in the old man's word without hesitation and thus treated Harry Potter harshly and deplorably always with the notion that he was a spoiled and arrogant brat just like his father and not once trying to see beyond the little tell-tales that he had glimpsed along the years at Hogwarts that may have meant that the reality was not really as Dumbledore had painted it.

And now Severus found himself wondering what he should do: his main reason to fight on this coming war was no more. He didn't wish to fight for the Light anymore after Dumbledore's failings were found out; though he didn't want to return to the Dark Side either as the way it currently was even if he considered himself a Dark wizard as his views differed greatly from Voldemort's present goals.

As he thought deeply about all this, he was caught off guard when a big black owl entered his quarters and landed neatly before him on the back of one of the armchairs that occupied his living room. The bird held out its leg with a letter attached and waited for the wizard to relieve it of its burden.

Severus was surprised to receive a missive at this time of the day and from an owl he didn't know but reasoned that it could be from one of his Death Eaters associates wanting to know about the Boy-Who-Lived's demise and Dumbledore's particular response to that news. Nevertheless, he took the letter from the bird and it flew immediately away without wanting for a returning letter.

 _Not a message from a Death Eater then,_ he decided when he saw his name neatly written in an unknown calligraphy.

Intrigued now, Severus proceeded to check for hidden spells or poisons in the letter before finding none and opening the envelope.

 _Master Severus Snape,_

 _We never met personally although I can say that I know much about you personally and professionally._

 _Before expounding on the reason of this letter, please do know that the parchment and ink are spelled with a truth spell, I'm sure you know how to confirm my claim._

(Here, Severus did just that and indeed the letter was spelled to show the truth, leaving the man even more interested than before.)

 _I am certain that at this moment you are already aware of Harry Potter's death and that it was as shocking and unforeseen to you as it was to everyone else even though you have never showed any concern to him beyond the relationship between teacher and student. One could even be callous enough to state that you'd be happy with this news as you had always did your best to oppress him and never lost an opportunity to berate and punish him._

 _I know better though._

 _I know of the Vow that you made more than fourteen years ago to Lily Potter promising her that you'd do your best to protect his son's life._

 _I am aware as well of the Life Debt created when James Potter saved you from Remus Lupin's werewolf's claws when you were sixteen._

 _I know that you never forgave yourself for relaying part of the Prophecy to Voldemort and that Dumbledore never let you forget it either._

 _More importantly, I know of the reason why you survived all these years and played your flawless part as a spy between two powerful Lords intent on controlling the Wizard World, each in different ways._

 _And lastly, I understand that now that your reason to fight is gone, you don't know what path you should take; as Dumbledore lied about Harry Potter and is one of the people to blame for his death and Voldemort is a unreasonable and cruel master that has lost the original goals of his campaign._

 _I'm sure that by now you are wondering and panicking who am I and how do I know so much about your person._

 _You have no need to alarm, I assure you. I have no intention in sharing your secrets (remember that this letter was spelled to only show the true). In fact, what I wish is to impart some information of my own._

 _As of last night, the Dark Lord Voldemort became a bit less insane thanks to my actions. I will not divulge what I exactly did but I can tell you for sure that his current awful behaviour will change in the next few days and he will be less erratic and much more logical and rational in his plans._

 _I am not your enemy, Severus Snape._

 _I came to the British Wizarding World to try and make it better. All this prejudice, backwards and sheep mentally is not the way to do it. Dumbledore and the Ministry are more than happy to let our world to continue in this fashion as long as everyone turns to them for answers and I, for one, will do my best to change this mind-set._

 _Harry Potter was my cousin from the Potter's side and I will not let the main culprit for my last blood relative's death get away with it. I will do anything necessary to avenge Lily's son and show the wizarding world precisely who is the person where they had put all their faith and trust._

 _As a peace offering to you, I enclosed within a letter from Lily Potter which she had written to you when she had gone under the Fidelius Charm. You see, Dumbledore in his selfish ways decided to hide both Potter's Wills fourteen years ago and thus everything was unable to be delivered to the appropriate parties, such as this letter._

 _If you wish to put any remaining doubts about this matter to rest, please be present at the trial for Harry Potter's murder and you will understand exactly just how far reaching and manipulative Albus Dumbledore was become._

 _Best regards_

 _Lady Florence Peverell_


	11. Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is not mine. Sadly my imagination is not that great.

AN: Thanks for everyone's support for this story. I am very happy and grateful that so many people like my 'little baby' and this only makes want to write more.

With this chapter, we start to see the beginning of the payback planned by Florence to the ones who wronged her and Harry. I hope that you like how this is going and, like always, you are welcome to share your opinions.

 **IMPORTANT:** I am aware that usually a trial does not proceed the way that I wrote it in this chapter and the following ones. I have never been in a courtroom or anything related to that and the only knowledge that I have about this matter is through the TV and movies.

Some character from Harry Potter once said that 'wizards have no common sense' and I thought: well, if they don't have that, there is not a great stretch of imagination if other things are very different too. Right?

So, people, just go with the flow and ignore any inconsistencies that you may find in this trial when compared to real life. I know it is different and maybe even improbable but I will leave it that way as it works best with what I have planned for this story.

I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 _''_ _Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.''_

 _–_ _Robert A. Heinlein_

 **CHAPTER 10**

Harry Potter's funeral the next day was a grand affair. People from everywhere on the country had come to say their last good-byes to the Boy Hero and the media were in attendance as well to photograph the service for _The Daily Prophet_ other newspapers. Florence was happy to note that the attending reporter was Sarah Silvers, the same witch who had written the announcing article about Harry's death the previous day.

Most witches were crying openly before and during the ceremony, and everyone seemed to be truly grief-stricken about this tragic happening _. Almost everyone that is_ , Florence corrected as she glimpsed certain people that she had no wishes in seeing at the forefront of the crowd, while an official from the Ministry conducted the burial ceremony.

Florence had to exercise all her restrain when she had first seen them. Never before had she been so happy and thankful for her mastery of Occlumency and her considerable self-control. Her only wish at that moment had been to curse each and every one of them to oblivion time and again until all her hurt and anger diminished to a bearable level.

Albus Dumbledore had arrived at the Godric's Hollow's graveyard sensibly dressed in heavy black robes and his expression was expertly of one who was truly mournful for this situation. After him, the whole Weasley's brood (except Percy) followed with Hermione Granger among them.

It was clear to see, at least to Florence, who was actually sincere in their feelings of grieving.

The father of the family and the four older sons showed true sorrow in their faces and Florence knew that they were sincerely sad that Harry had died.

The same could not be said however about the mother and the two younger children and their muggle-born friend.

Molly Weasley acted for all to see as if she was burying one of her own children. Florence believed that the woman was trying too hard and making a nuisance of herself with her fabricated hysterical behaviour.

Ginny was actually truly crying, though her reasons for it were not the most appropriated ones in this situation. Florence didn't even have to read her mind to know that the girl was grieving her lost chance at being rich and the future Mrs. Potter.

Hermione Granger was trying and failing to appear grief-stricken about her best friend's death. Like her version from Florence's world, this Hermione was not a good actress and if one looked carefully enough, they could see that she seemed more annoyed than anything.

Lastly, Ron Weasley was not even trying in acting upset. He simply stood there beside his family with an expression of utter boredom on his face as if he couldn't get this over with fast enough to go do something that he actually cared about.

There were other people there that Florence had known in her world and was happy to note that they seemed truthful in their sentiments. Minerva McGonagall stood silently and with dry eyes although it was clear that the witch was mourning in her own way. Other professors were present as well to pay their respects to their students, though the one that surprised Florence the most was Severus Snape.

She had not been sure what the man's reaction to her letter from the previous day would be and had spent some time wondering about it. The man could have taken in the content of her letter in silence and mulling over it contemplatively in his mind or he could have just as well destroy her letter – not the one from Lily though, she was certain that that piece of parchment was safely guarded like a well- secured rare jewel – and start cursing everything in sight in his rage at the impudence of some mysterious woman knowing so much about his life.

Thus it was a rather pleasant surprise to Florence that the Potions Master was present at the ceremony and seemed sincere in his sentiments and at the same time inconspicuously maintaining his distance from his employer as he did not seem very happy with the old man at the moment.

Florence watched all this silently with her glamoured brown eyes. She had taken care of all the necessities for the funeral service however she did not acknowledge herself to anyone – except Madam Bones and Beryl Cross with a nod of her head – and was glad that no one had enquire about the one responsible for it.

There were some people (including the Minister of Magic, demonstrating what Florence sarcastically deemed the _British short-term memory_ ) who made some small speeches – meaningless in Florence's opinion, as most of them never knew Harry personally – during the ceremony but her greatest irritation was Dumbledore who was the last one to speak. He declared a seemingly heart-felt speech about how Harry Potter was a young beloved hero and a great example to his generation with careful hidden appeals to fight against the Dark and that now that the Boy Saviour was gone, Dumbledore was the only one able to stand against the Dark Lord.

Her own feelings aside, Florence was astonished of the way that the old man always tried to turn any given situation to his benefit, even the death of a child at the hands of his own family under the watchful eye of the Headmaster was a good enough circumstance to further his manipulations and shake off his own blame in the same breath.

Florence was one of the first people to leave after the ceremony ended. She'd come back later to properly pay her respects to Harry when she was alone and calmer. Her patience was reaching its limits and she knew that if she didn't leave immediately, she would surely do something that she would later regret and jeopardize her plans.

For now, those people must be completely oblivious of what awaited them in the near future and for that Florence needed to continue incognito for a little while longer.

* * *

The next few days passed smoothly to Florence. She met with her barrister, Gonzalo Castillo, a few times to take care of the charges that she wished to press against the people who had wronged Harry Potter. Florence was only waiting for the beginning of the trial of Harry's murder to advance with the legal charges.

She had met with Slowfire as well to go through her vast wealth. She had more gold than she could ever spend in her life – even with the prolonged life of the Mistress of Death – however she planned in using much of that money in her later plans for Hogwarts. She knew that if she didn't make investments and such, eventually her fortune would dwindle to almost nothing and even if she didn't like to admit it, she knew that money was power and the more gold you have, the more power you'll get and she was not afraid in using it for her ends.

Apart from his barrister and globin accountant, Florence's only company were the Peverell house elves and Ignotus. The small creatures were beyond happy to cater to every need of their new mistress and Florence was as content to let them have their way. For her it seemed like she had never left from the original Peverell Manor as Ignotus remembered all their past conversations and the house elves behaved in the same way she remembered and that was something that reassured her greatly. If nothing else, she'd always have her home: the only place in the whole world where she had ever felt completely safe and happy.

* * *

The day before the students would go back to Hogwarts via the Express after their Winter Holidays was chosen to be the beginning of the trial of Harry Potter's murder. This way everyone could attend it – professors and students alike – without jeopardizing the already planned classes at the school.

The general belief was that it would be something simple and quick. Vernon Dursley had already practically admitted to the crime and anyone who had more knowledge of the circumstances about the Boy-Who-Lived's tragic death – meaning Dumbledore and his selected supporters – didn't have any intention in rectify any misunderstandings that the population may have.

Surprisingly (or not), Albus Dumbledore had returned to his place as Chief Warlock the following day of Harry's funeral. It seemed that the old wizard was not so out of favour as he had made the public believe, after all. Sure, Cornelius Fudge and his entourage didn't cease in their underhanded tactics to banish him from the political arena and do their very best (or worst, depending on one's point of view) to blemish the image of the adored Headmaster.

Nevertheless, it appeared that all the Ministry's efforts were mostly for nothing. The long-time venerated wizard had somehow – though Florence didn't have any doubts how he had done it; she knew that the old man controlled almost half of the Wizengamot and these people eagerly followed his words as if it was gospel – easily regained his political power like nothing disagreeable had previously happened. Even though Florence had no evidence, she believed that Dumbledore had willingly stepped down (even if it not had seemed so) from his high position in July of 1995 and let the press and Ministry alike do as they wished to further his own wicked plans. Whether it was something to do with Harry Potter or another reason altogether she wasn't sure, however Florence understood that whatever it had been the purpose it had already been accomplished and Dumbledore was once more the revered and powerful wizard that the sheep of the British Wizarding World looked upon to.

 _If I have my way that will change soon enough,_ Florence vowed to herself as she made her way to the courtroom ten at the Ministry of Magic. Ironically, the same one where only months before Harry had been unfairly tried for using underage magic in front of his cousin Dudley.

She had decided to arrive early so she had the opportunity of taking a seat in the front row of the public stand and thus have perfect view of the central floor and the stands where the members of the Wizengamot were starting to take their designated seats. That place was also perfect for her to make her grand entrance when the moment was right.

Today was the day when everything would begin to irrevocably change in the Wizarding World; there would be no going back after she did what Florence had planned to do in that courtroom. She was looking very much forward to the reactions of everyone, especially Dumbledore, when she claimed the Potter Seat that the old man had unlawfully occupied for fourteen years at the Wizengamot was permanently out of his grasp and that he would have no right to even a Knut of the Potter fortune.

For a second she wished that the old man would have a heart attack upon hearing this shocking information. However, she decided that would be too light a sentence for the main instigator of hers and Harry's lives of misery after all and hoped that the old man stayed conscious through it all.

Meanwhile, she saw the Minister and his loyal toady minion, err, his Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge (Florence valiantly fought back her automatic reaction to take out her wand and kill the nasty woman at that precise moment), take a seat at a table perpendicular to the Wizengamot stand. Quickly strutting after them, Percy Weasley took his own seat and prepared to take his task as a scribe of this trial. All of them appeared eager to watch the trial, though Florence was sure, for different reasons.

A few minutes later, Amelia Bones threw a meaningful look and an almost inexistent nod in Florence's direction after she was seated on the right of the Chief Warlock, and waited for the proceedings to begin. The courtroom was filling to its complete capacity as no one wished to lose the trial of the year. _If only they knew,_ Florence thought to herself, smirking behind her hand.

No much longer after, the courtroom was mostly silent and the trial could get underway.

''Ladies and Gentlemen, we are here today to attain the truth about Harry Potter's horrifying death,'' Albus Dumbledore started, no twinkling eyes in sight, showing a grief-stricken face, which only a few present could honestly claim to know as a fake one. ''Vernon Dursley is for now the main suspect, although Madam Bones has informed us just recently of new evidences to this case.''

Florence could perceive a small amount of annoyance coming from the old man at not being informed more in depth about these new important evidences, though she doubted many more people could see the same.

''Now I'd like to…'', he continued, but was swiftly cut off.

''Excuse me,'' Florence declared, her voice carrying easily around the room and not sounding apologetic at all, standing and advancing a step to be seen more easily by anyone. She looked the old man right in the eye, unafraid that he could use Legillimency on her.

''Miss, are you aware that you are interrupting an important trial?'', Dumbledore questioned reprovingly, turning his full attention on her and hiding his irritation at being so blatantly disrespected in front of everyone.

''Yes, sir,'' she was quick to respond, standing calm and collected even with every eye in the room upon her person. ''I'd like to claim my Ladyships before this trial begins as is my right.''

Dumbledore showed clear surprise at that. Definitely, he wasn't aware that there would be anyone present at the time able to claim any Lord/Ladyships. The only ones that he could think of were still too young to do such a thing and he didn't recognize the young woman at all. Though, he had no choice on the matter; as she had stated, it was her right.

''Very well, Miss…?''

''Lady Florence Peverell,'' she said proudly, gleefully smirking on the inside when she saw the old man widening his eyes minutely in recognition of the old Pureblood name.


	12. Chapter 11

AN: Once again I remind you that I have no knowledge about how a trial is run so please don't send me reviews saying that I'm doing it wrong because I know.

Wizards have no common sense and they do things differently. (And I didn't feel like to do research about those boring things.) I am lazy. Sue me! :p

Florence starts to kick ass and the quote chosen for this chapter is very appropriate, I think. (Does even anyone read these little things?)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 _''_ _I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life's a bitch. You've got to go out and kick ass.''_

 _–_ _Maya Angelou_

* * *

 _Previously :_

 _Dumbledore showed clear surprise at that. Definitely, he wasn't aware that there would be anyone present at the time able to claim any Lord/Ladyships. The only ones that he could think of were still too young to do such a thing and he didn't recognize the young woman at all. Though, he had no choice on the matter; as she had stated, it was her right._

 _''_ _Very well, Miss…?''_

 _''_ _Lady Florence Peverell,'' she said proudly, gleefully smirking on the inside when she saw the old man widening his eyes minutely in recognition of the old Pureblood name._

 **CHAPTER 11**

''I assume that you are aware of the proper proceedings to claim your Magical Seats?'', Dumbledore asked with a gruffer voice than usual, after recovering from this unexpected information.

Florence merely nodded and Dumbledore silently made a gesture for her to proceed.

She stepped into the middle of the courtroom and produced her wand (the twin one to the wand in Albus Dumbledore's possession, though much more powerful and slightly disguised at the moment), held her head high and took a deep breath before waving her wand in an arc and stating strongly.

''I, Lady Florence Alcyone* Peverell, do hereby claim my right by Magic and by Blood to the Seats of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell.''

There was a flash of blinding light as the claim was magically accepted and a rich parchment appeared from the tip of her wand and flew automatically to the Chief Warlock's hands. At the same time, Florence's previously black robes (worn in respect of Harry Potter) turned the official plum colour that every member of the Wizengamot displayed, thus wordlessly confirming that Florence Peverell was now part of that august body.

Dumbledore moved as if about to speak and announce the number of Seats now under her power – which Florence knew were five – but was cut off once again. After all, she just had now started.

''I, Lady Florence Alcyone Peverell, do hereby claim my right by Magic and by Blood to the Seats of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter.''

The same blinding light and appearance of parchment followed accepting her claim and Dumbledore visibly paled at that. She had no doubt that the old man was mourning the loss of the Potter Vaults and Seats – which were three. Several other people were quite shocked as well at this sudden turn of events.

Florence maintained her proud and clear mask, not giving any time for recovery.

''I, Lady Florence Alcyone Peverell, do hereby claim my right by Magic to the Seats of the Royal and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor.''

After the claim being again accepted, Dumbledore seemed to almost whimper under the new reality of the existence of a Founder's Lady. His power in Hogwarts had lessened in a flash, literally. And right now, her number of Seats was steadily increasing, with now more six Seats making a grand total of fourteen, and it seemed that she still wasn't done.

''I, Lady Florence Alcyone Peverell, do hereby claim my right by Magic to the Seats of the Royal and Most Ancient House of Ravenclaw.''

Dumbledore seemed to waver slightly in his seat: more six Seats and half of the power in Hogwarts out of his grasp. The audience, it seemed, had lost their voices in their impressive shock and merely waited with baited breath for what it was to come.

''I, Lady Florence Alcyone Peverell, do hereby claim my right by Magic to the Seats of the Royal and Most Ancient House of Hufflepuff.''

The old man was too shaken to react anymore. In that moment, he had lost most of his power in the ancient school and being the headmaster didn't serve him of much, as he had no standing to make substantial decisions on his own anymore.

''I, Lady Florence Alcyone Peverell, do hereby claim my right by Magic to the Heiress Seat of the Royal and Most Ancient House of Slytherin,'' Florence stated at last.

Slytherin was the only House that she could not legally claim all its Seats, unlike the other Houses, as the Heir by Blood, and lawful Lord was still alive – yes, she meant the Dark Lord Voldemort – and she had no intentions in turning his murderous attention on her just yet by taking what it was rightfully his. Though, as the only other Heir alive, she could claim the Heir Seat, which was originally given to the family heir's upon their majority to start training them on the ways of political affairs.

She noticed with amusement that Dumbledore actually seemed to be fighting some kind of seizure. His eyes never left the conspicuous parchments in front of him, though his breath was not steady and he seemed to be perspiring at an alarm rate; his case looked to be much worse than Fudge's own problems with sweaty hands (something that everyone knew and was disgusted about when meeting the man, though no one commented on it; he was the Minister of Magic after all). At his side, Amelia looked on concerned for all to see to the Chief Warlock and spoke quietly to him, no doubt asking if he was alright.

All around the courtroom, the members of the Wizengamot and public alike watched the new Lady, some in awe (mainly the general public), others in fear and greed of what it meant to them (the Wizengamot) now that they had someone unknown in their midst with such staggering power in her hands. After all, Lady Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff and Heiress to Slytherin had under her command no less than 21 Seats. If anyone tried to make an enemy of her, better have the guts and power to stand against her.

The Minister of Magic was one of the people that seemed torn between greed and fear. Without even trying, Florence could almost see his mind at work at that moment, thinking of ways which he could sway the powerful Lady to his own plans and the terrible ramifications if Florence stood against Fudge. The man was aware that he was more than likely to not last very long if that influential witch chose to turn against the Ministry.

Exceptionally, one of the oldest wizards belonging to the Wizengamot appeared deeply amused with this new state of affairs and chuckled lowly. His nearest companions shot him looks as if saying that he was finally off his rocker in his old age. He ignored them all and gazed at the powerful witch with interest. Florence returned his look in kind, not bothered at all by what she had just done. The old wizard – who now Florence recognized as Lord Greengrass, the very same one that had been sent to Azkaban after loudly protesting against the extreme pro-muggle laws and outlawing of old magical traditions' practise in Florence's world – seemed very happy that Dumbledore had fallen off of his high horse and had no compunctions in showing his pleasure; unlike some others who didn't possess enough backbone to openly express their opinions about the great Albus Dumbledore.

''We welcome you in the midst of this august body, Lady Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff and Heiress to Slytherin,'' Amelia Bones strongly proclaimed in Dumbledore's stead, seeing as the Chief Warlock was not exactly in condition to do it himself at the moment. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had stated this with her usual stoic features, as if what had just transpired was not a huge bombshell and nothing out of the ordinary. ''Please, take your rightful Seat amongst the Wizengamot.'' Amelia gestured slightly with her arm to just behind her.

Only then, everyone noticed the appearance of the new Seat in the upmost and farther row of the judicial organization – due to previously being too preoccupied staring in shock at the newcomer witch to really take notice of their surroundings. It was a large armchair, in green and gold tones and adorned with the Coat of Arms of all Florence's claimed Houses. In comparison to the others Seats, everybody could clearly see that it was richer and more imposing than any other, unmistakably stating which one was the most powerful Lord/Lady among them.

''Thank you, Madam Bones,'' Florence responded courteously, with a slight nod of her head and her features unchanged. ''However, I will remain standing right here as I would like to call forth the Family Law of 1550 stating that the Head of the Family him or herself has the right to lead the prosecution against a suspect of harming and/or killing one their family members in an open trial before the Wizengamot.''

Everyone was stunned again at that statement, as no one could recall ever hearing about that particular Law being used in the last one-hundred years – it was a fairly old law after all, and most people simply hired a barrister when necessary, seeing as they evidently were more knowledgeable about any existing laws and the proper ways to proceed in a court case. Only a handful of people appeared to recognize the indicated law, although they seemed somewhat sceptical that such a young woman could really do a proper job in such a trial of great magnitude as this one.

''Very well.'' Madam Bones, however, didn't even bat an eyelash at this latest turn of events, as if this proceeding was a common occurrence.

Albus Dumbledore, finally mostly recovered from the last minutes revelations, didn't appear to share her opinions at all, though he wisely remained silent. He seemed to be fighting with himself – and loosing spectacularly – to not glare at the offending witch who was turning his world upside down and destroying his plans in a matter of a few minutes.

''Thank you.''

Florence walked towards the stand usually used by the barristers and turned and faced the public stands. She wandlessly produced several sheets of parchment seemingly out of nowhere and discreetly took a deep breath. This was the moment where everything would change. She would do her best to start righting the long-standing wrongs of the Magical World, and that meant stripping that annoyingly twinkling-eyed old bastard of his precious political power and the general public's beliefs that he could do absolutely no mistakes.

''As everyone already knows, Mr. Vernon Dursley is the main suspect of the murder of Harry Potter,'' she started, face inexpressive and looking around the courtroom without really seeing anyone. ''What isn't known yet are the causes that led to this very unfortunate occurrence. Was it the first time that Mr. Dursley committed such an offense against his own nephew? Is the man the only one to blame for it, or are there others that should take the blame as well? The answers to these questions and much more are the ones that I'd like to make known to everyone.''

The courtroom was absolutely silent, except for Florence's voice and the Scribe recording each and every word spoken by her. The anticipation for what was to come was almost palpable in the air.

''But before we can have these answers, we shall start from the beginning. When Harry Potter was orphaned on the night of 31st October of 1981, Albus Dumbledore took it upon himself to take the traumatised toddler who had just witnessed the murder of his own mother before his eyes, to his only Muggle relatives, blatantly ignoring the Last Wills of James and Lily Potter, in which both clearly stated who should be the ones acquiring guardianship over their beloved son.''

Said old man raised from his seat outraged, grand-fatherly masked forgotten and fury on his eyes.

''Lady Peverell, is there a reason as to why you are spouting such lies in this courtroom?'', he demanded, just barely containing himself and not reaching for his wand in his wrath.

Around the room, people started whispering to each other. Some shared the scandalized opinion that the young Lady was outright denigrating their dear Headmaster, though others were not so quick at accusing her. Despite what Dumbledore liked to believe, not everyone fell for his 'slight eccentric but everything light and good' façade.

''Lies, Mr. Dumbledore?'', the lady in question asked nonchalantly and turned to face him; her eyes, though, were blazing and if she had a basilisk ability to kill with her glare, he most certainly would be dead several times over. ''What I just stated is the complete true and I have with me the Potter's Wills to prove it.'' She raised two sheets of parchment from the previous ones that she had conjured. ''The goblins at Gringotts were more than pleased to make some copies of them. Madam Bones, if you will? I assumed that you, as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement can accurately state if they are genuine or not. And please note that both Wills were signed by the Chief Warlock himself as a witness, thus he cannot claim ignorance.''

She made the Wills in question float wandlessly towards the Madam and patiently waited for her verdict. At her side, Dumbledore tried to take them before Amelia could and received a fierce glare for his meddling. She then proceeded to examine the papers and absolutely ignore the infuriated old man. Most members of the Wizengamot (and many from the audience as well) leant their bodies slightly forward in their eagerness to know the outcome of another shocking discovery. All were of the same mind that whatever happened in that room that day, they would surely remember the happenings for a long time to come.

''Both Wills are genuine,'' Madame Bones confidently decided (as she had already known that as she had gone through every document presented to her by Florence Peverell the prior days in her office, though no one was aware of their acquaintance before this morning).

''Impossible!'', the old man spluttered; face red with fury and panic of being found out.

''Are you saying, Albus,'' Amelia slowly and venomously hissed in her anger, ''that I do not know how to do my job properly?''

Dumbledore quickly shook his head, paling further. Everyone knew that Madam Bones was not someone to be crossed – with the whole Auror Force and other departments under her command – if they didn't want their lives throughout investigated and every little closet's skeleton discovered and bared to the world. It had already happened several times in the past and she didn't care if one was pureblood or not, as everyone was fair game. And she was one of the few people in the whole Ministry who was immune to any kind of bribery; in fact, if some fool even tried, she just used it as more ammunition to further her case.

''And something that Lady Peverell didn't mention is that both of them specifically state that Harry Potter should not, under any circumstance, be left with Lily's muggle sister as, and I quote, 'they hate magic and I fear for the life of my son in their care'. Care to explain, Albus?'', Amelia demanded, her eyebrow raised and voice cold and ominous.

''Harry needed the protection of the Blood Wards, created by Lily's sacrifice and for that he was required to live with his blood family'', Albus quickly explained, fighting for composure and trying to make them understand his reasoning. He could not be seen as someone neglectful who did not care for the well-being of the Boy-Who-Lived; he would lose many members of the Order of the Phoenix, not to mention the confidence of the general public, if they believed in that blasted witch coming from nowhere. ''It was for the greater good!''

The audience went wild at that statement. Many of them could not believe in their eyes and ears; they wanted to fervently deny that the self-proclaimed Light Lord would be capable of such misdeed. Tampering and/or ignoring someone's Will – and a Lord from an old Pureblood family no less – was a very grievous matter. They all recalled that there had been several magical families, from different backgrounds, that had wished at the time to adopt the Boy-Who-Lived, and all were denied by Dumbledore, claiming that it had been the wish of the late Potter's that little boy be raised by his remaining blood family.

''Independently of your reasons to do such a thing,'' Amelia said, unmoved by Dumbledore's heated speech and deeply irritated with his proclamation of the 'Greater Good' (how she hated that expression!), ''I must remove you temporarily from your position as Chief Warlock, taking in effect immediately.''

* * *

* **Alcyone:** queen who wards off evil and storms. ( )

 **Florence** : From the Latin name _Florentius_ or the feminine form _Florentia_ , which were derived from _florens_ "prosperous, flourishing". The name can also be given in referenceto the city in Italy. ( )


	13. Chapter 12

AN: This chapter is not really the way I wanted to, but after much struggling with it and annoying myself in the process, I decided to post it as it is before I decided to erase the whole thing. anyway, I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless.

Once again, thanks for your support.

* * *

 _''_ _In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anything done, ask a woman.''_

 _–_ _Margaret Thatcher_

* * *

 _Previously:_

 _''_ _Independently of your reasons to do such a thing,'' Amelia said, unmoved by Dumbledore's heated speech and deeply irritated with his proclamation of the 'Greater Good' (how she hated that expression!), ''I must remove you temporarily from your position as Chief Warlock, taking in effect immediately.''_

 **CHAPTER 12**

''What?'', the old man demanded dumbfounded at her sheer audacity of removing him – the great Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Defeater of Gridenwald and the only wizard that Voldemort ever feared – from his powerful position within the Wizengamot.

Florence fought against a gleeful smirk that wished to appear on her blank mask. She was beyond thrilled that Dumbledore was beginning his downfall and his words at the moment were not helping any.

''Albus Dumbledore, you are hereby removed from your position as Chief Warlock and all that entails until the investigation on this matter is resolved. So I say it, so mote it be.''

There was a flash of yellow light as Amelia finished speaking and Dumbledore found himself in common blue robes as his official plum-coloured robes displayed by each and every Wizengamot member disappeared from his person.

Seeing that he didn't have any intention of leaving his Seat, Amelia upgraded his glare and gestured slightly for him to move or else.

The old man complied, albeit very much against his will, displaying slumped shoulders and a mournful and disappointed face, acting as an unfair and harmless victim for all to see. He marched slowly, making himself older and frailer than he really was, to the first row of the public stand and took the seat previously occupied by Florence at the beginning of the trial.

Not far from his new seat, a few of the Weasley family and Granger looked completely enraged by the situation, if the death glares they kept sending in Florence's direction was anything to go by. The father and the four oldest sons seemed confused and thoughtful at this turn of events and – to Florence's great pleasure – didn't look much impressed with Dumbledore at the moment. Molly Weasley and Hermione Granger were shooting fierce glares at Lady Peverell alternating with supporting gazes in the old man's direction and even some seemingly comforting words that Florence couldn't hear as she was too far away. Ginny was looking depressed for all to see, which could be easily taken as grief for her long time crush's death even though it was not the true at all. As it was the same case with her brother Ron, who was sporting a bright angry red face, they both felt the Potter fortune slip farther away from their greedy clutches with every passing minute; with Harry's death, the only way they could have taken his money was through Dumbledore and now not even that option was available to them any longer.

The Wizengamot's members under the old man's thumb had wisely kept silent and no one of them even moved to protest against Madam Bones' decision. Despite unknowingly being simple pawns in Dumbledore's political games the majority of them were not completely idiots and actually understood when they could or not stand against decisions within their judicious body which they believed to be unfair and wrong.

The people on the stands were once more furiously whispering among them, quite shocked at this unprecedented turn of events. Many of them seemed rather offended and angry that the great Albus Dumbledore had been kicked out of the Wizengamot so easily and unjustly, entirely ignoring the accusations and evidences that had just been provided – those were the old man's blind supporters, the ones who followed every single word that Dumbledore uttered and never thought that he could do or say anything wrong.

Much more people, however, understood that this situation was not a simple one. To be able to temporarily remove the current Chief Warlock from his position there must have to be strong and solid accusations against his person and the tampering of one's Will was most certainly one of them.

Only once before in the history of the Wizengamot, another Chief Warlock had been officially and unwillingly removed from his position (the prior suspension of Dumbledore's status among the Wizengamot these past few months had been a willing one, mostly decided between himself and the Minister after their disagreement about Voldemort's return and thus it didn't really count as a forceful and permanent removal). It had been more than one-hundred-and-fifty years previously that the then Chief Warlock had been forcefully removed from his position due to several charges of torture and murder of two foreign wizards. The wizard had been judged guilty later on and a new Chief Warlock had been appointed; however while the matter had not been completely solved, it was not possible to choose a new one. There could be merely an Acting one for the time being which was where the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement came in.

Florence watched Dumbledore's frail acting with disgust even though at the same time inside she was happily applauding Amelia. This was the first nail in the old man's coffin and she was eager to deliver a few more.

''Now that this matter is taken care of for the time being,'' Amelia said clearly unbothered with what she had just done to the blind sheep's beloved wizard, ''Lady Peverell, you may proceed.''

''Thank you, Madam Bones,'' Florence responded respectfully with a nod.

All around the whispering conversations ceased completely and the attention was once more solely focused on the powerful Lady, everyone looking forward to what she had to say. Many of the people who had been sceptical minutes before about her competence in this trial started to concede that perhaps the young witch knew what she was doing after all.

''As Mr. Dumbledore mentioned the Blood Wards surrounding Harry Potter's relatives' house, I'd like to call a Ward Master with more than forty years of experience to answer some questions about them,'' Florence stated calmly as she righted the sheets of parchments before her, her eyes on the public unseeing.

''Certainly, Lady Peverell.'' Madam Bones allowed easily and swiftly.

''I'd like to call Master Laurent Ville, a renowned French Ward Master to the Stand,'' Florence said with her voice strong and unwavering as she shifted her gaze to a lateral door on the courtroom which was usually used to allow entrance to witnesses and such.

That door opened a second after she stopped talking and a middle-aged wizard stepped in with his head held high. Florence definitely conceded that the man had every reason to be proud. Mr. Ville was only 61 years old and was said to be the best Ward Master that France had in the last two-hundred years. Many rich pureblood families around Europe requested his services to ward their homes and/or business and had to wait some time as the wizard had a very busy schedule. Florence had requested his presence at this trial via Gringotts as a personal favour to the powerful Lady and the promise to the famous Ward Master to ward a certain known building in the near future which Mr. Ville once confessed he'd wished very much to do his work in.

They both had met the previous day at Gringotts for the first time and after being explained what she intended and with a Secrecy Oath, the French Wizard had assured her that it would be his pleasure to help Florence in her plans.

Mr. Ville stopped before Florence and greeted her respectfully with a kiss on the back of her hand and a smile before he took his place on the witness stand.

From the corner of her eye, Florence could see that Dumbledore did not seem at all happy with the direction of her plans and she had to fight against a smirk. She was curious to see if the old man would stay silent or if he would behave as a rash Gryffindor and bury himself a little further and speak against the evidences.

''Hello, Mr. Ville, thank you for being here today, '' she started cordially, her eyes not straying from the man before her. He mutely nodded in response. ''As I was saying moments before, I'd like to ask some questions about Blood Wards. I assume that you are fairly acknowledgeable about this type of protection?''

''Certainly, my dear,'' Mr. Ville acquiesced kindly with a slight accent and another nod, before expounding on the matter. ''Despite being claimed as a type of Dark Magic protection due to the blood required to erect the wards, there is absolutely nothing malicious about them. This type of protection can only be created with the blood of one who had died protecting another and they must share a blood connection between them; in most cases it is between a mother or father and their children. After the wards have been cast on the chosen property where it must live another person who shares the same blood connexion, there is a six months' time to let both parties get acquainted, shall we say, with each other, and it is only then that the wards come in to full force of defence, that is, if the requirements are met. Through this waiting stage, the wards are active but function not unlike the more standard family wards.''

''When you say that both parties need to get acquainted with each other, what you do mean exactly?'', Florence asked seemly calm and collected, already knowing the terrible true.

''The Blood Wards need, in fact, some positive feelings between the child being protected and the person anchoring the wards. The stronger the feelings of love and care between them, the stronger and powerful will be the protection,'' Mr. Ville answered evenly, not disclosing to anyone that he, too, already knew what Florence was getting at. He had been beyond appalled when he had been told of the actual true about the famous Blood Wards protecting Harry Potter.

''So if, hypothetically, there was never any love or any level of care between the adult and the child being protected, what would happen to the wards in your qualified opinion?'', the young witch continued her questions as if she was talking about the weather and not the widely misconception that had been Harry Potter's protection all these years.

''I never witnessed myself a case like you describe, however I have no doubts that those wards would simply shatter and fall completely without any support or they could still remain, although they would offer no protection at all, not even the more standard one; they would merely stand there like a decorative piece that would serve no purpose at all.''

Florence already knew all this and though that now she didn't even bat an eyelash at this information, the first time she had heard it, she had been anything but calm. To know that she had not been attacked by Death Eaters or Voldemort himself in the Dursley's house by pure conjecture and luck was something that she had had a very hard time to swallow. She had been truly alone and defenceless in that hellhole prison for almost sixteen years and no one aware of that fact had cared at all. At that moment, the hatred and rage inside her against Dumbledore had reached huge proportions and only her powerful Occlumency shields had stood against the wrath that wanted to get out and destroy her surroundings.

Many people gasped in shock at Mr. Ville's response. Even without directly and clearly spell it out, they had understood the true meaning of his words and were appalled. Despite each and every one's feelings about Albus Dumbledore, all of them had readily believed when the old wizard had stated in the past that the Boy-Who-Lived had been completely safe in his family's residence during all these years.

Florence stole a quick and subtle glance in Dumbledore's direction. The old man's face had turned ashen with the Ward Master's explanation and it was clear that he had not foreseen this complication in the trial at all.

Florence was not sure if the man even had known about the Blood Wards' specific details and requirements. Had he basically cast the wards without bothering in research them throughout and thought it was all that needed to be done to ensure their full power? Or had he actually known and simply hadn't cared that Harry was left completely unprotected in that dreadful house all his life? She had wondered about this before, though it really didn't matter either way. The point was that Harry had unnecessarily suffered all his life in that hellhole of a house and Dumbledore had been utterly careless and heartless with the boy's life – and Florence's – right from the start. And this was one of the main reasons for Florence's unwavering actions to see the Headmaster suffer the most painfully and embarrassingly possible as long as he kept on living.

After that alarming statement, Florence kindly thanked Mr. Ville for his time. She didn't want to spell out everything to the Wizengamot and audience. She wanted them to realize the harsh true on their own and gather their own opinions on this trial so that Florence couldn't be really blamed later (mainly by Dumbledore) in steering this hearing in a particular direction and force people in to believe what she wanted them to. She could see most of the Wizengamot members and many people on the public stand as well lowly whispering among them with upsetting expressions and she felt that that specific plan was at least partially accomplished for the moment.

With the first witness taken care of and the positive outcome from Mr. Ville's disturbing information, Florence felt a renewed sense of eagerness to continue this trial. If she would have her way, this day would be remembered for a long time to come as the day when the British Wizarding World started to raise their collective heads from underneath the sand and begin to understand all that was wrong in their mistakenly perfectly superior and structured world.


	14. Chapter 13

_AN: Thanks for everyone's support, it makes me very happy and gives me inspiration to write this little story._

 _Please, can anyone tell me where I can find an extract of Harry meeting Hagrid for the first time? I don't have any of Harry Potter's books with me and I'll possibly need that particular passage for the chapter after next._

 _I would be beyond grateful if anyone can help me._

 _If anyone has any idea about something that they wish to see in this trial, please feel free to tell me. I'll consider your ideas and credit you if I end up using them._

 _The second paragraph is credited to_ _ **magitech**_ _that mentioned something in her last review that I forgot last chapter. Thank you!_

 _Now, on with story, I hope that you enjoy it._

* * *

 _"_ _There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me."_

― _Jane Austen_ _,_ _Pride and Prejudice_

* * *

 _Previously:_

 _With the first witness taken care of and the positive outcome from Mr. Ville's disturbing information, Florence felt a renewed sense of eagerness to continue this trial. If she would have her way, this day would be remembered for a long time to come as the day when the British Wizarding World started to raise their collective heads from underneath the sand and begin to understand all that was wrong in their mistakenly perfectly superior and structured world._

 **CHAPTER 13**

After giving a few moments to everyone quiet down once more, Florence spoke up, her face still revealing nothing of her emotions and opinions about what had just been exposed.

''I would like to point out that the aforementioned wards, independently of their power or lack thereof, would only fully protect Harry around the Dursley's property. They would not have any power whatsoever to protect him outside just like any standard protection ward. Thus Harry had been left completely defenceless for ten years without any contact with the Wizarding World,'' she pointed out the bare and harsh true as if what she was saying was something inconsequential and insignificant, even though it was anything but. ''The only person from our world who he had some contact with was Arabella Figg, a Squib old lady positioned near the Dursley's house by Albus Dumbledore himself.''

At the mention of that woman's name, Dumbledore paled and his eyes widened, once more caught off guard by another unexpected turn of events. Florence knew that the old man had told of Mrs. Figg's true task to only a selected few that he could trust and it was expected that this disclosing information coming from the unknown Lady had rightly shocked him.

Ignoring him entirely, Florence continued her shocking speech with the entire audience keenly following her every word.

''Shortly before Harry passed away, he sent me several of his memories. Prior to this trial, Mr. Croaker, the Head of the Unspeakables, examined all of them to ensure their authenticity.'' She turned to Madam Bones in a graceful move. ''Madam Bones, what was the verdict from Mr. Croaker?''

''All the memories were confirmed to be completely genuine, Lady Peverell,'' the old witch stated evenly.

The courtroom exploded in a new wave of frantic whispering at this announcement. Florence could almost feel their anticipation and curiosity in finally seeing how Harry Potter lived before entering the Wizarding world at the age of eleven. She suspected that many of them still thought that the famous boy had had a somewhat normal life while growing up, despite everything that had already been said and she was looking forward to fully crush their naïve misconceptions.

From her peripheral sight, the powerful lady noticed Dumbledore open his mouth as if wanting to contest against something, however a moment later he shut it again, seemingly thinking better of it. The old man would be immensely foolish if he thought he could deny the Head of the Unspeakables' impartiality on any matter and be able to get away with it. That was surely a group of wizards and witches that were remarkably neutral on political matters and with the exception of Augustus Rokwood – who had been tried and imprisoned in Azkaban in 1981 for being a Death Eater and passing important information to Lord Voldemort – there was no other known Unspeakable that had ever openly chosen a side in the war.

''Indeed'', Florence agreed with a nod and a faint twitch of lips, slightly showing her satisfaction at this bit of news. ''I'd like to call Mr. Croaker and present the first memory to this trial.''

Seemingly out of nowhere, a tall, black-cloaked figure silently appeared with a heavy and ancient looking stone basin in his hands. This Pensieve was much larger than the one Florence remembered from Dumbledore's office or the one she had later discovered in Gryffindor's Vault. She had previously asked for this particular rare magical object to show Harry's memories because this Pensieve was very different from the usual ones. It was very rare and it was not often that the object was allowed to show a memory in a trial due to several strict rules and permissions.

This one not only displayed what had happened in a particular memory but was able to show as well what its owner was thinking in that moment. The basin was engraved with special runes that worked around a large area and made the viewers know the thoughts of the person which the memory belonged to as if they were their own for the duration the memory.

The Unspeakable proceeded to carefully drop the Pensieve in a side table and move his wand to conjure a very large blank canvas, not much unlike a muggle movie screen in the opposite wall, which was free of any people or objects.

After a nod from Mr. Croaker letting her know that he was ready, Florence spoked up once more.

''This first memory shows Harry at a young age, no more than six years old I'd say and we can clearly see that he has known his occasional babysitter for quite some time,'' she stated simply, expertly hiding her own opinions about it. She wanted them all to see first-hand what life had the precious Boy-Who-Lived had while the world acclaimed him as their saviour and blindly believed in the great lies of Dumbledore. In this particular case, Florence believed in the muggle saying: 'A picture is worth a thousand words'.

The various restless whispers that could be heard all around the courtroom gradually ceased and the silence that followed was expectant in the air.

''Mr. Croaker, please proceed.''

The man swiftly obeyed to her instruction and with a quick wand motion the memory started playing on the canvas.

* * *

 _Young Harry was silently and nervously seated on the edge of the back seat of his uncle's car. His hands were tightened in fists as if trying to make them not touching anywhere other than himself. He had ingrained his mind from a very young age that he was not allowed in the furniture and even though this time he was not breaking any rule he was still rather antsy about it._

 _It was clear at a first glance that the boy was clothed in something akin to dirty rags – he could easily pass for a homeless kid – and his glasses were damaged beyond repair with its lenses cracked and frames bended as if they had been dropped and stepped on one time to many._

 _His cousin Dudley was seated to his left and intermittently kicked him anywhere that he could reach with his pudgy feet. The slightly older boy had no problem in showing his dissatisfaction in having Harry so near him and, no matter how many times his mother reassured him that the Freak would not go with the three of them on vacation, it seemed he would only rest when the skinny boy was out of the car and far from his sight._

 _''_ _Now listen here, Freak,'' the fat man behind the wheel said intimidatingly after stopping the car and turning back on his seat to have a better view and show a clear menacing face to his nephew. He pointed a threatening finger at him. ''While you're with that woman, you'll behave and stay with you trap shut or else you know very well what will happen when we return from our holidays. Are we clear?''_

 _Dudley kicked him hard again for good measure as if Harry needed any type of clarification of the meaning of 'or else'._

 _''_ _That's my boy!'', Vernon praised his son with an affectionate pat on his chubby head._

 _Harry silently nodded as he did his best to ignore and not wince at his cousin's violence against his body._

 _''_ _You answer me when I am talking to you, Freak,'' the man admonished strictly as he roughly grabbed the skinny boy by his collar, squeezing his neck and shaking him a couple of times._

 _''_ _Yes, sir,'' Harry shakenly said with his eyes lowered when his uncle let go of him and he could breathe again._

 _''_ _Tell her that we'll be back on the fourteenth and that she is to take you to our house on the evening after six,'' Petunia ordered harshly, her lips pursing in disgust and her eyes glaring hatefully at him. ''If I hear a word about your freakiness or if you tell her some lie, you'll stay locked in the cupboard for at least a week without food. Do you understand me?''_

 _''_ _Yes, ma'am,'' Harry answered submissively not even batting an eyelash at what his aunt was saying. It was not like it was something new. He already knew their parting speech by heart and knew very well what was expected of him. Nevertheless, it seemed that there was always something that happened and he was punished for it later anyway._

 _''_ _Get out!'', the bitter woman ordered harshly, turning in her seat and dismissing her nephew completely as she searched for a packet of biscuits to her son in the large bag at her feet. They left the house not even fifteen minutes ago and he was already hungry after a huge breakfast that Harry had cooked and hadn't enjoyed, except for a slice of dry toast and a glass of water from the kitchen tap._

 _Harry hurried to comply, opening the car's door and snatching his old backpack which contained a few changes of clothes for the two weeks' stay at Mrs. Figg. He shut the door and walked quickly in the direction of his temporary residence. Without even waiting for the woman to open the door, the Dursley's disappeared quickly down the road leaving the little boy alone in front of the door to fend for himself._

 _After a hesitant knock and a few moments, the door opened and Mrs. Figg moved aside to let him inside._

 _Despite the old woman never being outright mean to him and feed him appropriately every time Harry spent time in her house, the boy didn't like her. For one, she had too many cats and talked about them all the time. Harry didn't really hate cats however these seemed odd to him and they mostly ignored him when he was there. Other thing that he disliked about her was that Mrs. Figg would stare at him sometimes when Harry had a bruise in his face or he seemed sick, but never said anything about it, ignoring the matter completely._

 _That was something that Harry was grateful for, as he didn't have a very good enough reason for it aside that he had fell while running or something along those lines and he was expressly forbidden to tell the truth, however, he thought it was odd that she never once commented on it. His teachers at school had at least said something before aunt Petunia had come to the school and twisted the reality in something that was far from the true, putting her and her husband in a very good light. As usual, the adults had believed in every word._

 _This time Harry was sporting a large bruise in his left cheek. He was so used to it that he had even forgotten that it was there and only remembered because Mrs. Figg's eyes lingered a second longer on it when she first saw him. She didn't say anything about it though or how his glasses were in an irreparable state or his pitiful clothes were dirty and torn in some places; for that matter. It was not like the Dursley's could not pay for better things for his nephew, they simply didn't want to waste their money on him._

 _As he stepped inside the house, he could feel her gaze linger as well on his legs. Dudley had kicked him on his left knee which he had fell on the prior day when Vernon had ruthlessly pushed him into the cupboard after punished him with a back-handed slap for slightly burning the bacon. At the moment, he was trying not to limp too much but he was not being very successful on that._

 _''_ _You can put your bag in the usual guestroom,'' the woman said evenly, ignoring everything she saw out of the ordinary, as usual. ''Then you can help me prepare lunch.''_

 _''_ _Yes, ma'am,'' Harry replied easily and politely as he was already used to the routine in this house._

* * *

When the memory ended, the canvas turned blank once more and the previous silence was shattered. Florence let the reactions go for some time as she scanned the stands, this time actively searching for certain faces among the large crowd.

The first one that she found was the red angry face of Dumbledore, his eyes glaring directly at her taking the chance on everyone's distraction and away from him to make his thoughts clear to the mysterious woman that was destroying all his carefully laid plans in a matter of minutes as if they were nothing. Unaffected, Florence simply raised an eyebrow at him and then dismissed him entirely, no doubt leaving him even more furious.

As her gaze passed quickly through the Weasley group, she found nothing unexpected on their demeanours. The five older male Weasley's were shocked and saddened as they whispered among them in clear contrast with the remaining three and Hermione Granger. Their expressions were outraged – and not about Harry's mistreatment as others may believe, but at the notion that someone was revealing truths better left concealed and denigrating the great Albus Dumbledore's impeccable image.

After a few seconds, she found Severus Snape in the last row of the stands almost hidden in the corner and near the exit door. She had been sure that he would come to this trial, even if only to confirm Florence's letter and see for himself what really kind of man was Dumbledore, whom he had trusted for the past fourteen years.

His face was its usual blank and impassive mask, however his eyes told another story altogether. Even from that distance, Florence could see that the man was beyond furious and she was certain that now he was revaluating everything that he had thought he knew about Harry Potter. How the fact he believed that the boy had been just like his bully and arrogant father had severely clouded his judgement. How badly he had let down his best friend by allowing his beloved son to be treated in that cruel fashion all his life and never attempt to get to know him better. And how ultimately, Harry had died alone after he couldn't take it anymore.

Unbeknownst to Snape, he was very near one disguised Sirius Black. Unlike the Polyjuice potion, the one she had given Harry's godfather was ready to be consumed without any other ingredient added (hair) and already had a specific person in mind when the potion was being brewed, meaning that no matter who took it, the end result would be the same.

At the moment, Florence saw a middle-aged man with wispy brown hair and short and slim stature slumping dejectedly on Remus Lupin's side. Both wizards showed miserable expressions and seemed to be fighting against tears after witnessing a glimpse of little Harry's childhood.

For the most, the audience was shocked and many women were on the verge or openly crying after witnessing such abuse against the Boy-Who-Lived. Dumbledore's manipulations and lies were coming to an end and Florence was looking forward for the excuse that the old man would surely find to defence his inaction about Harry's long time mistreatment at hands of his muggles relatives.

After she deemed enough time had passed, Florence turned in Amelia's direction and simply stated.

''Madam Bones, I would like to call Mrs. Arabella Figg to the stand.''


	15. Chapter 14

_AN: Hi! As always, thanks for everyon's support._

 _This chapter actually surprised even myself. I had intended to write it in a slight different direction but Arabella Figg decided that it was her time to shine and once she started talking, she didn't want to stop._

 _Anyway, I hope you like this chapter and, as always, feel free to give me your opinions on it or ideas for future chapters._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 _''_ _If you don't like being a doormat, then get off the floor.''_

 _–_ _Al Anon_

* * *

 _Previously:_

 _After she deemed enough time had passed, Florence turned in Amelia's direction and simply stated._

 _''_ _Madam Bones, I would like to call Mrs. Arabella Figg to the stand.''_

 **CHAPTER 14**

''Certainly, Lady Peverell,'' the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and current Acting Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot swiftly conceded with a nod, her face only one of the few that had remained impassive after that awful memory.

Once more, the lateral door which had opened previously let in the aforementioned woman, whose demeanour could not be more different from the last person who had passed through that same door.

Mrs. Figg stepped in the courtroom visibly hesitant and nervous by the situation and her current surroundings. Her head was lowered as if she was carefully looking where she was putting her feet with each unsure step and thus successfully and entirely avoiding everything around her.

In that moment, Florence could not be more grateful for Amelia's support with this trial. All the letters sent by her – officially in the name of the Ministry and the Wizengamot – summoning certain people, had had a confidentiality spell implanted in them, forbidding the corresponding receivers of mentioning their content in any way to other people. She was sure that if they hadn't done that, Dumbledore would have been aware very quickly of her plans and ensured that they could not be followed at any cost. This way, the old man was completely unaware of what was coming and in no position of strategically fighting back Florence's advances.

After slowly making her way, the old woman finally reached the stand and nervously took her seat, always avoiding eye contact with everyone. Florence conceded that it was actually a good thing, as Dumbledore was currently trying his best in glaring the Squib to death with a permanent furious expression on his old face.

''Hello, Mrs. Figg. Thank you for coming here today,'' Florence started politely, even though they knew that she was not a willing witness in that courtroom; each and every one of the letters sent by Amelia Bones were mandatory summons to this trial. ''I assume that you know the reason for your presence in this trial?''

''Yes,'' the woman answered uneasily albeit clearly without looking up, her hands wringing each other nervously.

The woman's blatant anxiety was plain to everyone in that room. Independently of her reasons for the way she had acted in the past concerning Harry Potter – whether she had behaved in that fashion on her own free will or she had been told or forced to do it – everyone would agree that Mrs. Figg did not seem very proud of it at that moment. It remained to be seen, however, if what she was feeling was remorse, shame, or other emotion altogether.

When she was younger, Florence had never really understood the Mrs. Figg from her own world. Just like Harry, she had been treated in a detached and casual way and any sign alerting anyone that there was something amiss in her life with the Dursley's was promptly and firmly ignored. Only years later, after searching deeply in the past for answers to some questions that had plagued her for so long, had Florence found out that her old babysitter was actually rather jealous and resentful of her magic and standing in the Wizarding World.

Arabella Figg, née Buckley, had been born a normal magical child amidst an average magical neutral family. However, not long after she had celebrated her eighth birthday, one of her youngest cousins and his parents had been visiting the Buckley family and, in an incident that up until now was still not completely understood, the young boy, at the time no older than five years old, with a very powerful accidental magic outburst had blown up the children's playroom and almost killed Arabella in the process. Thankfully, Arabella survived the explosion with minimal injuries but lost her magic fighting for her life.

Despite being neutral, the Buckley's quickly decided that they could not raise a Squib as their oldest daughter and heiress and sent her to a couple of distant cousins in London that happened to be Squib as well. Thus Arabella's bitter and distant personality was born, despite being treated with care and love by her new family. She had never forgiven her parents for abandoning her – despite that they had never cut all contact with their first-born and they sent her material gifts through the years until she was an adult – and her young cousin for robbing so violently her magic, even though he was only a small child at the time and had begged for her forgiveness years later, when he was informed by his parents about that terrible day.

What shocked Florence the most was discover that the young boy in question had been her grandfather's younger brother, Henry Potter, and just like many other instances in Florence's – and Harry's – life, she had been the target of misplaced hatred and rancour from an adult that they barely knew due to one of her family's past actions without having any blame in the matter whatsoever.

Shoving her musings behind the tightly protected walls of her mind, Florence turned her attention to the interrogation at hand.

''Mrs. Figg, you babysat young Harry several times along the years when the Dursley's wanted to go on holydays with their only son. Is that correct?'', Florence started her questions in a calm and even tone.

''Yes.''

''In all those times that you had Harry in your house, did you ever noticed something out of normal about him?'', Florence asked even though it was quite clear after that memory that the woman was quite aware of Harry's upbringing. Nonetheless, she wished to have all the details covered.

''Yes'', the Squib confirmed again, her voice shaking slightly. She didn't know that everyone in the room was now aware of her inactions to Harry's ill-treatment by his relatives, though she seemed to sense that somehow they knew anyway.

''Then if you noticed that something was amiss, why did you never said or done something to correct the situation?'', Florence pressed relentlessly; she wanted to know the answer to that question very much.

Arabella fidgeted under all the attention as she seemed to think hard about what to say. As she chanced a look upward, she finally locked eyes with Dumbledore – who at the moment was behind and to the left of Florence and was too busy glaring the Squib into silence and submission to be discreet enough about his actions. She flinched perceptively under the old man's fury and quickly looked down again.

For long moments, the woman kept silent seemingly deep in thought, never stopping her hands from wringing themselves in her lap. Florence had seen the brief exchange between the two of them but decided to not interfere; she wanted to see if the woman had the courage to admit the truth by herself and implicate Albus Dumbledore on this or if she would be fabricating some far-fetched story and making herself completely innocent.

''Mrs. Figg, please answer my question'', Florence said when she had finally had enough, making the Squib almost jump in her seat. ''Why did you never did anything to stop the abuse on an innocent child?''

''I…'', Arabella started before swallowing heavily and trying again. It was clear that she knew that there was no escaping that question and the longer she took to respond, the more the people in the courtroom would believe in her culpability in Harry's abuse. ''The first time I noticed that Harry was not… well-treated by his family,'' she continued, this time her voice was stronger and it seemed that she had finally made up her mind and was ready to tell her part in the story, though she was careful to continue staring at her hands in her lap, ''I contacted Albus Dumbledore and told him that the boy did not seem happy or very healthy.''

If she was still her young counterpart, Florence would have shouted her glee or fist-pumped or something childish like that when Arabella chose to reveal the actual true and blame the esteemed Headmaster. However, she was not reckless nor wore her emotions in her face anymore and the only sign of her delight at that answer was a fleeting uplifting of her lips in a smug smirk. She was beyond pleased that the woman's loyalty to Dumbledore was not as strong as she had believed. Clearly, Arabella wished to save her own skin and had no compunction in laying most of the blame at the old man's feet.

''Oh?'', she asked, outwardly surprised by that answer after she turned slightly towards the audience, wanting to see and hear the people's reactions to this latest bombshell.

Dumbledore had turned several different colours in a matter of a few seconds, reminding Florence strongly of Vernon Dursley's habitual expression before the muggle man started his rant and physical violence on her niece. As it was becoming a pattern, the five older male Weasley's were appalled at this revelation at the same time the rest of their group shoot unthinking murderous glares at the Squib. The public and Wizengamot in general was silently shocked for a second before starting whispering furiously among them; what they were really thinking in that moment was anyone's guess, Florence supposed. They could believe her words as easily as deem that she was shamelessly shoving the blame at the old man to simply save her own skin.

''What was Mr. Dumbledore response to your information?'', Florence asked nonchalantly, pacing slowly in the centre of the courtroom without looking at Mrs. Figg. Actually, her eyes had fixed themselves in Dumbledore's face as she spoke, internally delighted that the old man seemed to be on the verge of opening his mouth and worsen his precarious situation. She mentally and enthusiastically urged him to dig his own grave further. ''Surely Harry's magical guardian would step in and at least verify your account on the matter, no?''

''No… he said that everything was fine and there was no need for concern,'' Arabella was quick in deny, her voice growing stronger with her resolve and backbone. ''He said that I surely was exaggerating and 'boys will be boys' and things like that. He further ordered that I should stay silent about my opinions and not put my nose where it did not belong as there was absolutely nothing to worry about.''

''So, Mr. Dumbledore never went to see if there was actually something wrong happening in the Dursley's house?'', Florence pressed as her gaze never wavered from the Dumbledore, catching every changing expression on the old man's face as he struggled against his mounting fury.

''No, after he left Harry at the Dursley's doorsteps after Rubeus Hagrid retrieved him from the ruins of Godric's Hollow , he never returned to Privet Drive, not even once,'' the old woman strongly stated, finally having courage to raise her head and looking directly at her interrogator. It seemed that Arabella had finally decided that the esteemed Headmaster was not worth her fear and lies.

Florence jumped in joy inside her head. This questioning was becoming better and better by the minute. The woman was relaying precious information without even being prompted and she was looking forward to the old man's fall from grace as she could hear the commentaries all around raising in volume and outrage as the time passed.

''Mrs. Figg, are you saying that Mr. Dumbledore never once visited Harry for the ten years he lived with his muggles relatives? That he never once performed his duties as his magical guardian – even though the position was taken illegally – and made sure that Harry was informed of his place and importance in the wizarding world?'', the Lady Peverell asked, her voice horror-stricken, as she enumerated point after failing point on the old man's responsibility. ''That Mr. Dumbledore never once informed Harry about his parents' deaths or the legacy and money which they had left for their only son?''

''Yes, Dumbledore never stepped foot in Privet Drive and we only talked through the Floo System or by Owl Post,'' Arabella confirmed without hesitation with a nod of her head for good measure. ''Harry was told that his parents were good-for-nothing drunks who had died in a car crash. The boy didn't even know his own name, for goodness' sake! The first time he stayed at my house he was three and when I called him Harry, he actually looked at me oddly before looking around as if searching for someone else. When I told him that his name was Harry, he shook his head and said that his name was Freak or Boy!''

At that last sentence, the whole courtroom seemed to gasp collectively in shock. Understandably, hearing that the famous Boy-Who-Lived didn't even know his own name was something akin to sacrilege. Young and old children alike all around Britain and perhaps even the world at large were told night stories about the small young wizard who saved them all from the Dark Lord Voldemort and the boy himself lived in completely ignorance and didn't even know his own name believing that his name was Freak! That was something very outrageous to everyone, independently of their beliefs and sides on the war.

''Previously you mentioned that Mr. Dumbledore left baby Harry on the doorstep of the Dursley's house,'' Florence stated in a very cool and collected fashion, redirecting the questions, feeling that this last point had been made and not wanting to insist too much on it. She wanted the people to think for themselves and repeating the point for too long was not the way, she considered. It would not do to make it seem like she was forcing them to believe on the matter without any kind of opinion on their part. ''Surely, you were saying that figuratively. No one in their right mind would leave a toddler alone in the middle of night, not to mention the cold temperature that no doubt the month of November always carries.''

''Oh I say it literally all right,'' Arabella said heatedly, her previous hesitation nowhere to be seen. ''Dumbledore, Hagrid and McGonagall left the boy wrapped in a blanket inside his basket with only a letter to explain what happened to the muggles right there on the front step of the Dursley's door and then without ringing the door's bell, went on their merry way to celebrate the fall of You-Know-Who without ever looking back.''

The courtroom gasped again in unison. Severus Snape was directing his most deadly glare at Dumbledore's head, his expression one of the most cold fury that even Florence had witnessed only a few times in her life was a student. Remus Lupin and the disguised Sirius Black seemed on the edge of completely collapsing in their despair and shamelessly crying their eyes out at these latest facts.

Dumbledore turned a sudden white colour resembling more a ghost than a living being, clearly caught by surprise (again) and Florence fought to maintain her composure before she started applauding Arabella Figg. She was sure that, apart from the three that were there that night, no one knew the way the old man had quite literally abandoned Harry Potter to his fate in the dead of the night. She was quite surprised that the Squib even knew that much, although if the past interactions with Hagrid were anything to go by, she supposed that it wasn't that hard to make the half-giant spill the truth if one knew exactly what they should ask to reach the intended information.

Florence was quite aware of what Arabella Figg was really doing. She was not revealing all she knew about Harry's dreadful childhood from the goodness of her heart, even if she played it that way. No, Florence knew that the Squib was trying to shift the focus of the people's outrage concerning Harry from her person in someone else. And who better than the Great Albus Dumbledore to point her accusing finger at and take on the blame for what had happened in the past? Even better yet, she didn't even have to spout a single lie as it was all actually true.

Even knowing all this, Florence didn't really care that much about the woman's reasons. The most important point was that Dumbledore was under scrutiny for his past inexcusable actions, right there where she wanted him. Figg would not leave this matter completely unscathed, as she was not totally blameless either; however Florence would take advantage of her sudden talkative disposition while it lasted and make the better of it.


	16. Chapter 15

_Author Notes: Thanks as always for your support!_

 _I'm so sorry for taking so long to update! Real life sucks! Lately I've been working more hours than usual and when I get home, I just don't have the will to do a thing. And for some reason, this chapter was a bi*** to write, I just seemed to not know what to write. For more than two weeks I couldn't write a full sentence without frustrating myself. And then last night and today, I wrote all of it almost without stopping, although i'm not completely happy with it._

 _I will be gone on vacation to Portugal for two weeks starting next Sunday morning, the 18. (Finally holidays! Yay!) I will try to write if I have some down time, however I don't expect on updating as I will be staying in some relatives' house and I don't know if they have wireless._

 _Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, which I tried to make longer than usual. As always, feel free to comment and give ideas about the characters and plot and, if possible, I will try my best to include it in my story and give you proper credit._

* * *

''Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain't goin' away.''

– Elvis Presley

''The truth will set you free but first it will piss you off.''

– Gloria Steinem

* * *

 _Previously_ _:_

 _Even knowing all this, Florence didn't really care that much about the woman's reasons. The most important point was that Dumbledore was under scrutiny for his past inexcusable actions, right there where she wanted him. Figg would not leave this matter completely unscathed, as she was not totally blameless either; however Florence would take advantage of her sudden talkative disposition while it lasted and make the better of it._

 **CHAPTER 15**

''If Mr. Dumbledore did not appear interested in taking any action concerning his magical ward's alleged abuse, why didn't you call the Muggle Child Services and report the situation?'', Florence steered the questions in yet another direction. ''Surely the Muggles could at least look in to it and decide if that family was truly abusive towards Harry.''

''Dumbledore threatened me to stay quiet about it,'' Figg explained quickly, seemingly expecting for everyone to simply believe that she had no other option but obey her orders on the matter. ''The house on Wisteria Walk where I live since '81 was bought by him and I have nowhere else to go. He said that my only duty was to report any unexpected magical activity, such as appearance of any magical being in the neighbourhood.''

''Like Death Eaters, you mean?'', Florence probed in a neutral tone as her eyes never strayed from her prey, err, the old man, who was anything but pleased with the questions' directions.

''Yes, but he warned me that I should also quickly call him if I ever saw any other wizard or witch near Privet Drive,'' the woman explained, her intent of layering all the blame she could possibly put on the old headmaster in full force. ''Absolutely anyone, he actually said. It didn't matter if they were dark or light wizards, I was to call him right away before they could make any kind of contact with the Dursley's or little Harry.''

With this answer, a few of Florence's suspicions started to take a firmer form and she was determined to discover the truth.

''Have you ever called Mr. Dumbledore upon such a situation?'', she charged on mercilessly as the old Headmaster was suddenly shaking his head with his patented pleading and disappointed expression towards Mrs. Figg in a last effort of making her keep her silence – which unfortunately could not be seen by the public behind him – since his previous menacing glares had no effect on the woman.

The Squib, however, completely ignored the man's pleas and didn't hesitate in implicate him further.

''It happened twice that I recall,'' she stated with barely disguise smugness in being the centre of attention in such an important trial. Even without using Legillimency, Florence was able to realize that Arabella firmly believed that her earlier alleged liability in Harry's abuse was entirely forgotten and forgiven by everyone as she had only been following Dumbledore's particular orders. ''The first time was barely a year after Harry's arrival at Privet Drive. There was a wizard who was asking after the Dursley's. He seemed to know that they lived in that street although he didn't know in which house. I had quickly called Dumbledore through the Floo and he came right away.''

''Who was that wizard?'', Florence interjected, quite curious to know. She had never been aware that there had been unexpected and unwanted – in the Headmaster's case at least – visitors at Privet Drive.

''Remus Lupin.''

At the declaration of his name, the aforementioned wizard abruptly jerked his head up from his previous bowed position as he had been leaning against his best friend and trying his hardest at containing his grief and horror at everything that was being revealed in that courtroom. To anyone who cared to observe, his reaction was one of sheer shock and then confusion; it seemed that the man had no idea of what the Squib was talking about. The disguised Sirius Black looked at his friend equally surprised but said nothing; the both of them just turned towards the centre of the courtroom and silently demanded to know what was going on.

Many people started to whisper again commenting about this latest development. Everyone knew that Remus Lupin had been one of James Potter's best friends and it was rather difficult to comprehend how it could be possible that the man might have left little Harry to the Dursley's cruel mercies after having visited them. Not to mention the completely open shocked reaction at Arabella Figg's claim that he had been at Privet Drive. The wizard in question appeared to have no recollection whatsoever of this particular fact. If they didn't know any better, they would say that Lupin might have been Obliviated…

 _It was impossible, right?_ Disturbed, most of them tried to reassure themselves and their companions as this little bit of understanding started to dawn on them. Just before they had stepped on that courtroom, almost all of them would deny without hesitation such statement – _It would be simply preposterous!_ – however after all the revelations heard in this trial, they were not so sure anymore in what they should and could believe.

Florence allowed the public's response and Lupin and Black's undisguised shock and utter confusion for a few moments in silence. Severus Snape didn't show any outward reaction to this bit of information, except for the slight narrow of his eyes in the werewolf's direction. For once, the Weasley's group was unanimous in their opinion; all of them seemed to be totally surprised. And the Headmaster was still trying and falling spectacularly in catching Figg's gaze and implore for her to shup up and say no more. The woman was having none of that though as she seemed to blissfully bathe in the spotlight and the chaos that she was capable of creating by merely speaking. It was clear that she was having the time of her life.

As she focused again in Dumbledore, Florence could almost feel it. The old man was near breaking and incriminating himself further by opening his mouth. She had only to continue leading Figg in the direction she wanted and the Squib would do the rest of the job for her.

At the moment, she didn't know what exactly had happened all those years ago to Remus Lupin, although she could make a very good guess and contrary to the population at large she had absolutely no trouble in believing that the old man was capable of committing such ruthless and criminal act to protect his own plans.

''It seems that Mr. Lupin is rather surprised by your last statement, Mrs. Figg,'' she commented in forged casualness, resuming her questioning after she deemed that enough time had passed. ''How can you say that he was there, when the man himself appears not to remember such an occasion?''

''It's truth, Lupin was there asking the neighbours about the Dursley's!'', Arabella affirmed strongly and glared first at Florence and then around the room, seeming somewhat offended that she was being taken for a liar. ''Dumbledore caught him just after Mrs. Hopkins from number 10 at Magnolia Road told him where they lived. Then the two of them started to argue – I didn't hear anything because Dumbledore had cast some kind of silencing spell – and a minute later, he waved his wand at Lupin and he didn't remember anything. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing there. Dumbledore told him something that I didn't catch and he promptly left after that.''

''Do you know what spell Mr. Dumbledore used against Mr. Lupin?'', Florence asked in an even tone, as if what the woman was implying was no big deal. However inside, she indulged in another happy dance at proving her suspicions right and further tainting the old man's (no more) spotless reputation.

''As I said, I couldn't hear them, but from his wand there was a green light and after Lupin left, Dumbledore told me smugly'', here she cleared her throat and adopted a different voice and tone, trying to imitate the old man, '''This one will definitely not return anymore. Harry Potter is now barely more than a stranger to him and thus not important enough to worry about. Good job, my dear.' After that, he simply left.''

There was utter chaos in the courtroom as the Squib's words corroborated with the light of one particular Memory Charm and the after-effects as well. The Obliviate Spell was the spell regularly used by the Ministry Obliviators when Muggles witnessed something related to the Wizarding World. However this spell was heavily controlled by the Ministry due to its possible damaging mental effects and thus not quite legal to cast on unsuspecting fellow wizards and witches.

Among the cries of outrage and anger, Lupin and Black had turned chalk white and froze in their seats for a few heartbeats in their devastating shock before they recovered their colour and furiously tried to stand up and promptly march towards the old wizard to give him a very big piece of their minds. Fortunately, the wards cast upon the stands against hostile behaviour forced them to sit down again and abort their impetuous vengeful plan.

Finally not able to stand any more disparaging upon his precious image, Dumbledore stood up contemptibly even as he fought to appear more disappointed than furious with the situation at hand, making everyone faintly quiet down to see what the old man had to say after such incriminating accusations.

''Arabella, my dear, what are you trying to accomplish with such vile and false words?'', he asked in his patented grandfatherly and saddened tone which was generally used against children who misbehaved and caused trouble by parents around the world. ''Really, is that your way of calling for attention to you, since your own parents had forsaken you when you were a little girl?''

Arabella's previous ecstatic demeanour changed abruptly to one cold and hateful as she glared full on at the Headmaster. He was one of the only people alive aware of her family history and she hated being reminded of them and everything that she had lost all those years ago by the cruel hand of fate. Now the old man was using that same weakness against her to try and making her appear as if she was simply demanding attention by spreading lies about the venerable headmaster in a bout of jealousy and bitterness.

Florence looked on it all silently and quite pleased. As expected, she didn't need to do anything to bring forth Dumbledore's anger and making him speak and thus implicating himself further; Arabella Figg was doing a splendid job all on her own.

The Squib was not backing down and taking the old man's words as a warning; instead she decided to stand against him – like she had never done before – and finally say exactly what she thought of him. She didn't care that most of the British Wizarding World was witnessing and this exchange most likely would be printed in the next issue of _The Daily Prophet._ She was tired of following this man who had been toying with her feelings for years and years to get what he wanted out of her.

 _We can clearly see where_ that _has taken me in the end, can't we?_ _If he thinks that I'll just shut up and let him get away with his wrongdoings and blame me in the process, he has another thing coming!_ She thought so strongly and loudly that Florence could hear her mental voice without even trying.

''Everything I said in this room was the absolutely truth, Dumbledore,'' Figg stated strongly as she kept on glaring steadily at the old man.

Florence mutely agreed that the woman was correct; even though the Squib had said some things in ways that made her appear less guilty in this entire situation, they were nonetheless accurate.

As Dumbledore opened his mouth to let another veiled accusation at Figg, no doubt, the woman beat him to it and said clearly and without hesitation.

''I'd like to submit myself to _Veritaserum_ to prove that I am telling the truth, Lady Peverell.'' She turned in Florence's direction for the first time since the glaring contest between her and Dumbledore had started and looked at her interrogator expectantly.

For a split second, Florence was surprised by the woman's decision as she hadn't believed that Arabella had it in her to be so open about this situation, but it seemed that her animosity of the Headmaster was more deep-seated than Florence had ever expected.

Even though she wished more than anything to question every single witness in this trial with the Truth Serum and just be done with it, she had no real power to do so without sufficient evidence against the person in question. At the moment, the only ones who would be surely under the potion's effects would be the three Dursley's as they were directly implicated in Harry Potter's death. Nevertheless, the young and powerful Lady quickly recovered her wits – not that anyone could tell that she had reacted in any way to Figg's latest words – and promptly granted the woman's choice of taking the potion on her free will.

''Of course, Mrs. Figg,'' she said before she turned towards Madam Bones, who called out an Auror to bring in and administer the Truth Serum.

The lateral door opened once more and Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office, strode authoritatively into the room, in his right hand a small vial of _Veritaserum._ It seemed that Madam Bones was playing it safe and only using the Heads of their respective Departments to ensure that everything was followed perfectly and there was no chance of tampering the evidences and potions needed or having a hidden supporter of Dumbledore's in the courtroom to make the old man's dirty work for him.

Silently Scrimgeour approached Mrs. Figg, who promptly opened her mouth to let the required three drops of the clear potion fall on her tongue.

As Florence waited a few seconds for the potion to start doing its work, she let her eyes wander around the room. Everyone had quieted completely as the sense of expectation rose in the air. Like Florence, they all had been rather taken by surprise by the Squib's rash decision; after all it was not every day that someone requested the potion on their own free will and even less when they were somewhat implicated on the matter being judged on the courtroom. Nevertheless they certainly could not point out a single word against the use of the strongest Truth Serum to reveal the true facts once and for all.

The clear exception to this general behaviour was obviously Albus Dumbledore. The old man had closed his eyes and sagged in defeat as soon as Figg had asked for _Veritaserum._ He was very aware that he could not intervene at all in this particular proceeding and would be perceived more negatively if he even tried to. He was completely ignorant of the worried looks sent his ways by some of the Weasley's and a few of his most staunch supporters throughout the room.

Most of them leaned forward eagerly as Florence moved slightly to be in Arabella's line of sight before she began her questions once more. The old woman in question was already demonstrating the usual effects which showed outwardly on anyone fully under the Truth Serum compulsion: her eyes were glassy and seemingly unseeing and her face was slackened and devoid of any particular expression.

''What is your full name?''

''Arabella Moreen Figg, née Buckley,'' the old woman answered in an emotionless tone and glassy eyes.

Florence nodded, letting know her entourage that the Serum was working correctly.

Some people whispered among them clearly not expecting that the woman seated in from of them was from such a known neutral family. As far as everyone knew, the Buckley's had died out more than thirty years ago due to a severe case of dragon pox, the last member of that family being Arabella's niece, Eloise, the daughter of her younger brother, Aran.

''You were assigned to guard Harry Potter in his childhood neighbourhood by Albus Dumbledore, correct?''

''Yes.''

''In what exactly consisted your assignment?''

''I was to report any magical activity around Privet Drive,'' Arabella explained never changing her tone or expression, showing that she was not even trying to fight the effects of the potion. ''If any wizard of any background approached the neighbourhood and started to ask questions about the Dursley's or little Harry, I was to call Dumbledore immediately for him to take care of the situation.''

''Have you ever called Mr. Dumbledore to 'take care of the situation' as you put it?''

''Yes, twice. The first time was on December of 1982, Remus Lupin was around asking about the Dursley's. The second time was on July of 1992, there was a wizard from the Ministry making questions about Harry Potter and what the neighbours thought about him and his family: if the boy was happy and treated well, some things like that. I don't know his name.''

Florence paused for a second. She never knew that particular titbit of information. She wondered what the Ministry, or rather Fudge, had wished to accomplish with that. Had they wanted to take Harry away from Privet Drive? And for what end? She mentally shoved these thoughts away. Now was not the time to ponder about the corrupt motives of the Ministry of Magic.

''What happened in both situations?''

''After I called Dumbledore, he came through the Floo and argued with Lupin beyond a silencing spell before he cast a spell of green light on the man. After that, Lupin didn't remember anything and left rather disorientated. It happened the same way with the man from the Ministry.''

The chaos returned, and this time bigger than ever. Everyone was appalled and outraged and could not deny any longer what they had tried to themselves. Not only it had been confirmed that Remus Lupin had actually been there and promptly _Obliviated_ but they knew now that someone from the Ministry had been more than likely wiped out of their memories of Privet Drive as well. The worst of it was that as Figg didn't know the man's name there was no way in discover what had really happened to that wizard (and Dumbledore surely would not reveal a thing about it), unless the man had been in Privet Drive following some kind of order from one his superiors and they could point out the wizard's identity.

Dumbledore was seated in his place and trying rather spectacularly to be invisible to the angry masses behind him. Florence was sure that the old man was very grateful at the moment for the protection wards around the courtroom against hostile and violent behaviour among the bystanders, be it in a physical or magical way.

Florence made Arabella repeat Dumbledore's commentary after he had sent Lupin on his way. In the wizard from the Ministry's case, she had simply said ''Good riddance!''


End file.
